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LI B RAHY 

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v. 2 



IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 



IN THE 



ROAR OF THE SEA 

£ Cale of tlje Cocmsrtj Coagt 



S. BARING-GOULD y 

author of 
"mehalah," " urith," etc. 



IN THREE VOLUMES 



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IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 



CHAPTER XX. 



BOUGHT AND SOLD. 

Cruel Coppinger remained brooding in the place 
where he had been standing, and as he stood there 
his face darkened. He was a man of imperious will 
and violent passions; a man unwont to curb himself; 
accustomed to sweep out of his path whoever or 
whatever stood between him and the accomplishment 
of his purpose ; a man who never asked himself 
whether that purpose were good or bad. He had 
succumbed, in a manner strange and surprising to 
himself, to the influence of Judith — a sort of witchery 
over him that subdued his violence and awed him into 
gentleness and modesty. But when her presence was 
withdrawn the revolt of the man's lawless nature 
began. Who was this who had dared to oppose her 

VOL. II. 2 



2 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

will to his? a mere child of eighteen. Women were 
ever said to be a perverse generation, and loved to 
domineer over men ; and man was weak to suffer it. 
So thinking, chafing, he had worked himself into a 
immersing rage when Miss Trevisa entered the hall, 
believing it to be empty. Seeing him, she was about 
to withdraw, when he shouted to her to stay. 

" I beg your pardon for intruding, sir; I am in quest 
of my niece. Those children keep me in a whirl like 
a teetotum." 

" Your niece is gone." 

" Gone ! where to ? " 

" Back — I suppose to that old fool Menaida. He is 
meet to be a companion for her and that idiot, her 
brother; not I — I am to be spurned from her presence." 

Miss Trevisa was surprised, but she said nothing. 
She knew his moods. 

"Stand there, Mother Dunes!" said Coppinger, in 
his anger and humiliation, glad to have some one on 
whom he could pour out the lava that boiled up in 
his burning breast. " Listen to me. She has told me 
that we belong to different worlds — she and I — and to 
different races, kinds of being, and that there can be 



BOUGHT AND SOLD. 3 

no fellowship betwixt us. Where I am she will not 
be. Between me and you there is a great gulf fixed — 
see you ? and I am as Dives tormented in my flame, 
and she stands yonder, serene, in cold and complacent 
blessedness, and will not cross to me with her finger 
dipped in cold water to cool my tongue ; and as for my 
■coming near to her" — he laughed fiercely — "that can 
never be." 

" Did she say all that ? " asked Miss Trevisa. 

" She looked it ; she implied it, if she did not say it 
in these naked words. And, what is more," shouted 
he, coming before Aunt Dionysia threateningly, so that 
she recoiled, "it is true. When she sat there in yonder 
chair, and I stood here by this hearthstone, and she 
spoke, I knew it was true ; I saw it all — the great gulf 
unspanned by any bridge. I knew that none could ever 
bridge it, and there w r e were, apart for ever, I in my 
fire burning, she in Blessedness — indifferent." 

" I am very sorry," said Miss Trevisa, "that Judith 
should so have misconducted herself. My brother 
brought her up in a manner, to my mind, most im- 
proper for a young girl. He made her read Rollin's 
'Ancient History' and Blair's 'Chronological Tables,' 



4 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

and really, upon my word, I cannot say what 
else." 

" I do not care how it was," said Coppinger. " But 
here stands the gulf." 

" Rollin is in sixteen octavo volumes," said Aunt 
Dionysia ; " and they are thick also." 

Coppinger strode about the room, with his hands in 
his deep coat pockets, his head down. 

" My dear brother," continued Miss Trevisa, apolo- 
getically, " made of Judith his daily companion, told 
her all he thought, asked her opinion, as though she 
were a full-grown woman, and one whose opinion was. 
worth having, whereas he never consulted me, never 
cared to talk to me about anything, and the conse- 
quence is the child has grown up without that respect 
for her elders and betters, and that deference for the 
male sex which the male sex expects. I am sure when 
I was a girl, and of her age, I was very different, very 
different indeed." 

" Of that I have not the smallest doubt," sneered 
Coppinger. " But never mind about yourself. It is 
of her I am speaking. She is gone, has left me, and I 
cannot endure it. I cannot endure it," he repeated. 



BOUGHT AND SOLD. 5 

" I beg your pardon," said Aunt Dionysia, "you 
must excuse me saying it, Captain Coppinger, but you 
place me in a difficult position. I am the guardian of 
my niece, though, goodness knows, I never desired it, 
and I don't know what to think. It is very flattering 
and kind, and I esteem it great goodness in you to 
speak of Judith with such warmth, but " 

"Goodness! kindness!" exclaimed Coppinger. "I 
am good and kind to her ! She forces me to it. I can 
be nothing else, and she throws me at her feet and 
tramples on me." 

" I am sure your sentiments, sir, are — are estimable ; 
but, feeling as you seem to imply towards Judith, I hardly 
know what to say. Bless me ! what a scourge to my 
shoulders these children are; nettles stinging and blister- 
ing my skin, and not allowing me a moment's peace ! " 

" I imply nothing," said Coppinger. " I speak out 
direct and plain what I mean. I love her. She has 
taken me, she turns me about, she gets my heart 
between her little hands and tortures it." 

" Then, surely, Captain, you cannot ask me to let 
her be here. You are most kind to express yourself in 
this manner about the pert hussy, but, as she is my 



6 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

niece, and I am responsible for her, I must do my 
duty by her, and not expose her to be — talked about. 
Bless me ! " gasped Aunt Dunes, " when I was her 
age I never would have put myself into such a position 
as to worry my aunt out of her seven senses, and bring 
her nigh to distraction." 

" I will marry her, and make her mistress of my 
house and all I have," said Coppinger. 

Miss Trevisa slightly curtsied, then said, " I am sure 
you are over-indulgent, but what is to become of me ? 
I have no doubt it will be very comfortable and accept- 
able to Judith to hear this, but — what is to become of 
me ? It would not be very delightful for me to be 
housekeeper here under my own niece, a pert, insolent, 
capricious hussy. You can see at once, Captain Cop- 
pinger, that I cannot consent to that." 

The woman had the shrewdness to know that she 
could be useful to Coppinger, and the selfishness that 
induced her to make terms with him to secure her own 
future, and to show him that she could stand in his 
way till he yielded to them. 

" I never asked to have these children thrust down 
my throat, like the fish-bone that strangled Lady 



BOUGHT AND SOLD. 7 

Godiva — no, who was it ? Earl Godiva; but I thank my 
stars I never waded through Rollin, and most certainly 
kept my hands off Blair. Of course, Captain Cop- 
pinger, it is right and proper of you to address yourself 
to me, as the guardian of my niece, before speaking to 
her." 

" I have spoken to her, and she spurns me." 
" Naturally, because you spoke to her before ad- 
dressing me on the subject. My dear brother — I will 
do him this justice — was very emphatic on this point. 
But you see, sir, my consent can never be given." 
" I do not ask your consent." 
"Judith will never take you without it." 
"Consent or no consent," said Coppinger, "that is 
a secondary matter. The first is, she does not like me, 
whereas I — I love her. I never loved a woman before. 
I knew not what love was. I laughed at the fools, as 
I took them to be, who sold themselves into the hands 
of women ; but now, I cannot live without her. I can 
think of nothing but her all day. I am in a fever, and 
cannot sleep at night — all because she is tormenting me." 
All at once, exhausted by his passion, desperate at 
seeing no chance of success, angry at being flouted 



8 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

by a child, he threw himself into the chair, and settled 
his chin on his breast, and folded his arms. 

" Go on," said he. " Tell me what is my way out of 
this ? " 

" You cannot expect my help or my advice, Captain, 
so as to forward what would be most unsatisfactory to 
me." 

" What ! do you grudge her to me ? " 
" Not that ; but, if she were here, what would be- 
come of me ? Should I be turned out into the cold 
at my age by this red-headed hussy, to find a home for 
myself with strangers ? Here I never would abide with 
her as mistress, never." 

" I care naught about you." 

" No, of that I am aware, to my regret, sir ; but that 
makes it all the more necessary for me to take care for 
myself." 

" I see," said Coppinger, " I must buy you. Is your 
aid worth it ? Will she listen to you ? " 

" I can make her listen to me," said Aunt Dunes, 
" if it be worth my while. At my age, having roughed 
it, having no friends, I must think of myself and pro- 
vide for the future, when I shall be too old to work." 



BOUGHT AND SOLD. 9 

" Name your price." 

Miss Trevisa did not answer for a while ; she was 
considering the terms she would make. To her coarse 
and soured mind there was nothing to scruple at in 
aiding Coppinger in his suit. The Trevisas were of a 
nne old Cornish stock, but then Judith took after her 
mother, the poor Scottish governess, and Aunt Dunes 
did not feel towards her as though she were of her own 
kin. The girl looked like her mother. She had no 
right, in Miss Trevisa's eyes, to bear the name of her 
father, for her father ought to have known better than 
stoop to marry a beggarly, outlandish governess. Not 
very logical reasoning, but what woman, where her 
feelings are engaged, does reason logically ? Aunt 
Dunes had never loved her niece ; she felt an inner 
repulsion such as sprang from encountering a nature 
superior, purer, more refined than her own, and the 
mortification of being forced to admit to herself that it 
was so. Judith, moreover, was costing her money, and 
Miss Trevisa parted with her hard-earned savings as 
reluctantly as with her heart's blood. She begrudged 
the girl and her brother every penny she was forced, 
or believed she would be forced, to expend upon them. 



io IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

And was she doing the girl an injury in helping her to a 
marriage that would assure her a home and a comfort- 
able income ? 

Aunt Dionysia knew well enough that things went 
on in Pentyre Glaze that were not to be justified, that 
Coppinger's mode of life was not one calculated to 
make a girl of Judith's temperament happy, but — 
" Hoity-toity ! " said Miss Trevisa to herself, " if 
girls marry, they must take men as they find them. 
Beggars must not be choosers. You must not look a 
gift horse in the mouth. No trout can be eaten apart 
from its bones, nor a rose plucked that is free from, 
thorns." She herself had accommodated herself to the 
ways of the house, to the moods and manners of Cop- 
pinger ; and if she could do that, so could a mongrel 
Trevisa. What was good enough for herself was over- 
good for Judith. 

She had been saddled with these children, much, 
against her wishes, and if she shifted the saddle to the 
shoulders of one willing to bear it, why not ? She had 
duties to perform to her own self as well as to those 
thrust on her by the dead hand of that weak, that 
inconsiderate brother of hers, Peter Trevisa. 



BOUGHT AND SOLD. i s 

Would her brother have approved of her forwarding 
this union ? That was a question that did not trouble 
her much. Peter did what he thought best for his 
daughter when he was alive, stuffing her head with. 
Rollin and Blair, and now that he was gone, she 
must do the best she could for her, and here was a 
chance offered that she would be a fool not to snap 
at. 

Nor did she concern herself greatly whether Judith's- 
happiness were at stake. Hoity-toity ! girls' happiness ! 
They are bound to make themselves happy when they 
find themselves. The world was not made to fit them,, 
but they to accommodate themselves to the places in. 
which they found themselves in the world. 

Miss Trevisa had for some days seen the direction 
matters were taking, she had seen clearly enough the 
infatuation — yes, infatuation she said it was — that had 
possessed Coppinger. What he could see in the girl 
passed her wits to discover. To her, Judith was an 
odious little minx — very like her mother. Miss Trevisa, 
therefore, had had time to weigh the advantages and 
the disadvantages that might spring to her, should 
Coppinger persist in his suit and succeed ; and she had 



12 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

considered whether it would be worth her while to help 
or to hinder his suit. 

"You put things," said Aunt Dionysia, "in a blunt 
and a discourteous manner, such as might offend a 
lady of delicacy, like myself, who am in delicacy a 
perfect guava jelly —but, Captain, I know your ways, as 
I ought to, having been an inmate of this house for 
many years. It is no case of buying and selling, as 
you insinuate, but the case is plainly this : I know the 
advantage it will be to my niece to be comfortably 
provided for. She and Jamie have between them but 
about a thousand pounds, a sum to starve, and not to 
live, upon. They have no home and no relative in the 
world but myself, who am incapable of giving them a 
home and of doing anything for them except at an 
excruciating sacrifice. If Judith be found, through 
your offer, a home, then Jamie also is provided for." 

He said nothing to this, but moved his feet im- 
patiently. She went on — "The boy must be provided 
for. And if Judith become your wife, not only will it 
be proper for you to see that he is so, but Judith will 
give neither you nor me our natural rest until the boy 
is comfortable and happy." 



BOUGHT AND SOLD. 13 

" Confound the boy ! " 

" It is all very well to say that, but he who would 
have anything to say to Judith must reckon to have to 
consider Jamie also. They are inseparable. Now, I 
assume that by Judith's marriage Jamie is cared for. 
But how about myself ? Is every one to lie in clover 
and I in stubble ? Am I to rack my brains to find a 
home for my nephew and niece, only that I may be 
thrust out myself? To find for them places at your 
table, that I may be deprived of a crust and a bone 
under it ? If no one else will consider me, I must 
consider myself. I am the last representative of an 

ancient and honourable family " She saw Cop- 

pinger move his hand, and thought he expressed 
dissent. She added hastily, " As to Judith and Jamie, 
they take after their Scotch mother. I do not reckon 
them as Trevisas." 

"Come — tell me what you want," said Coppinger, 
impatiently. 

" I want to be secure for my old age, that I do not 
spend it in the poor-house." 

"What do you ask?" 

" Give me an annuity of fifty pounds for my life, and 
Othello Cottage that is on your land." 



»4 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" You ask enough." 

" You will never get Judith without granting me that." 
" Well— get Judith to be mine, and you shall have it." 
" Will you swear to it ? " 
"Yes." 

"And give me — I desire that — the promise in 
writing." 

" You shall have it." 

" Then I will help you." 

"How?" 

■" Leave that to me. I am her guardian." 

" But not of her heart ? " 

" Leave her to me. You shall win her." 

"How?" 

"Through Jamie." 



CHAPTER XXI. 



OTHELLO COTTAGE. 



To revert to the old life as far as possible under 
changed circumstances, to pass a sponge over a terrible 
succession of pictures, to brush out the vision of 
horrors from her eyes, and shake the burden of the 
past off her head — if for a while only — was a joy to 
Judith. She had been oppressed with nightmare, and 
now the night was over, her brain clear, and should 
forget its dreams. 

She and Jamie were together, and were children once 
more ; her anxiety for her brother was allayed, and she 
had broken finally with Cruel Coppinger. Her heart 
bounded with relief. Jamie was simple and docile as 
of old; and she rambled with him through the lanes, 
along the shore, upon the downs, avoiding only one 
tract of common and one cove. 

A child's heart is elastic; eternal droopings it cannot 



16 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

bear. Beaten down, bruised and draggled by the 
storm, it springs up when the sun shines, and laughs 
into flower. It is no eucalyptus that ever hangs its 
leaves ; it is a sensitive plant, wincing, closing, at a 
trifle, feeling acutely, but not for long. 

And now Judith had got an idea into her head, that 
she communicated to Jamie, and her sanguine antici- 
pations kindled his torpid mind. She had resolved to 
make little shell baskets and other chimney ornaments, 
not out of the marine shells cast up by the sea, for on 
that coast none came ashore whole, but out of the 
myriad snail-shells that strew the downs. They were 
of all sizes, from a pin's head to a gooseberry, and of 
various colours — salmon-pink, sulphur-yellow, rich 
brown and pure white. By judicious arrangement of 
sizes and of colours, with a little gum on cardboard,, 
what wonderful erections might be made, certain to 
charm the money out of the pocket, and bring in a little 
fortune to the twins. 

"And then," said Jamie, " I can build a linney, and 
rent a paddock, and keep my Neddy at Polzeath." 

" And," said Judith, " we need be no longer a burden 
to auntie." 



OTHELLO COTTAGE. ij 

The climax of constructive genius would be exhibited 
in the formation of a shepherd and shepherdess, for 
which Judith was to paint faces and hands ; but their 
hats, their garments, their shoes, were to be made of 
shells. The shepherdess was to have a basket on her 
arm, and in this basket were to be flowers, not made 
out of complete shells, but out of particles of sea-shells 
of rainbow colours. 

What laughter, what exultation there was over the 
shepherd and shepherdess ! How in imagination they 
surpassed the fascinations of Dresden china figures.. 
And the price at which they were to be sold was 
settled. Nothing under a pound would be accepted^ 
and that would be inadequate to represent the value of 
such a monument of skill and patience ! The shepherd 
and shepherdess would have to be kept under glass 
bells, on a drawing-room mantel-shelf. 

Judith's life had hitherto been passed between her 
thoughtful, cultured father and her thoughtless, infantile 
brother. In some particulars she was old for her age y 
but in others she was younger than her years. As 
the companion of her father, she had gained powers of 
reasoning, a calmness in judging, and a shrewdness of 

VOL. ii. 3 



18 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

sense which is unusual in a girl of eighteen. But as 
also the associate of Jamie in his play, she had a 
childish delight in the simplest amusements, and a 
readiness to shake off all serious thought and fretting 
care in an instant, and to accommodate herself to the 
simplicity of her brother. 

Thus — a child with a child — Judith and Jamie were 
on the common one windy, showery day, collecting 
shells, laughing, chattering, rejoicing over choice snail- 
shells, as though neither had passed through a wave of 
trouble, as though life lay serene before them. 

Judith had no experience of the world. With her 
natural wit and feminine instinct she had discovered 
that Cruel Coppinger loved her. She had also no 
hesitation in deciding that he must be repulsed. Should 
he seek her, she must avoid him. They could not 
possibly unite their lives. She had told him this, and 
there the matter ended. He must swallow his dis- 
appointment, and think no more about her. No one 
could have everything he wanted. Other people had to 
put up with rejection, why not Coppinger ? It might 
be salutary to him to find that he could not have his 
way in all things. So she argued, and then she put 



OTHELLO COTTAGE. 19 

aside from her all thought of the Captain, and gave 
herself up to consideration of snail-shell boxes, baskets, 
and shepherds and shepherdesses. 

Jamie was developing a marvellous aptitude for 
bird-stuffing. Mr. Menaida had told Judith repeatedly 
that if the boy would stick to it, he might become as 
skilful as himself. He would be most happy, thankful, 
to be able to pass over to him some of the work that 
accumulated, and which he could not execute. " I am 
not a professional; I am an amateur. I only stuff 
birds to amuse my leisure moments. Provokingly 
•enough, gentlemen do not believe this. They write to 
me as if I were a tradesman, laying their commands 
upon me, and I resent it. I have a small income of 
my own, and am not forced to slave for my bread and 
'baccy. Now, if Jamie will work with me and help me, 
I will cheerfully share profits with him. I must be 
•director — that is understood." 

But it was very doubtful whether poor Jamie could 
;be taught to apply himself regularly to the wcrk, and 
that under a desultory master, who could not himself 
remain at a task many minutes without becoming 
exhausted and abandoning it. Jamie could be induced 



20 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

to work only by being humoured. He loved praise. He 
must be coaxed and flattered to undertake any task 
that gave trouble. Fortunately, taxidermy did not 
require any mental effort, and it was the straining of 
his imperfect mental powers that irritated and ex- 
hausted the boy. 

With a little cajolery he might be got to do as much 
as did Uncle Zachie, and if Mr. Menaida were as good 
as his word — and there could be little doubt that so 
kind, amiable, and honourable a man would be that — ■ 
Jamie would really earn a good deal of money. Judith, 
also hoped to earn more with her shell-work, and 
together she trusted they would be able to support 
themselves without further tax on Miss Trevisa. 

And what a childish pleasure they found in scheming, 
their future, what they would do with their money,, 
where they would take a house, how furnish it ! They 
laughed over their schemes, and their pulses fluttered 
at the delightful pictures they conjured up. And all 
their rosy paradise was to rise out of the proceeds of 
stuffed birds and snail-shell chimney ornaments. 

" Ju ! come here, Ju ! " cried Jamie. 

Then again, impatiently, " Ju ! come here, Ju ! " 



OTHELLO COTTAGE. 21 

" What is it, dear ? " 

" Here is the very house for us. Do come and see." 

On the down, nestled against a wall that had once 
enclosed a garden, but was now ruinous, stood a cottage. 
It was built of wreck-timber, thatched with heather 
and bracken, and with stones laid on the thatching, 
which was bound with ropes, as protection against the 
wind. A quaint, small house, with little windows 
under the low eaves ; one storey high, the window- 
frames painted white ; the glass frosted with salt 
blown from the sea, so that it was impossible to look 
through the small panes, and discover what was 
within. The door had a gable over it, and the centre 
of the gable was occupied by a figure-head of Othello. 
The Moor of Venice was black and well battered by 
storm, so that the paint was washed and bitten off him. 
There was a strong brick chimney in the midst of the 
roof, but no smoke issued from it, nor had the house 
the appearance of being inhabited. There were no 
blinds to the windows, there were no crocks, no drying 
linen about the house ; it had a deserted look, and yet 
was in good repair. 

" Oh, Ju ! " said Jamie, "we will live here. Will it 



22 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

not be fun ? And I shall have a gun and shoot 
birds." 

" Whose house can it be ? " asked Judith. 

" I don't know. Ju, the door is open ; shall we go 
in?" 

" No, Jamie, we have no right there." 

A little gate was in the wall, and Judith looked 
through. There had at one time certainly been a 
garden there, but it had been neglected, and allowed 
to be over-run with weeds. Roses, escallbnica,. 
lavender had grown in untrimmed luxuriance* 
Marigolds rioted over the space like a weed. Pinks 
flourished, loving the sandy soil, but here and there 
the rude blue thistle had intruded and asserted its 
right to the sea-border land as its indigenous home. 

Down came the rain, so lashing that Judith was 
constrained to seek shelter, and, in spite of her 
protest that she had no right to enter Othello 
Cottage, she passed the threshold. 

No one was within but Jamie, who had not attended' 
to her objection ; led by curiosity, and excusing himself 
by the rain, he had opened the door and gone inside. 

The house was unoccupied, and yet was not in 



OTHELLO COTTAGE. 23 

a condition of neglect and decay. If no one lived 
there, yet certainly some one visited it, for it had not 
that mouldy atmosphere that pervades a house long 
shut up, nor were dust and sand deep on floor and 
table. There was furniture, though scant}-. The 
hearth showed traces of having had a lire in it at 
no very distant period. There were benches. There 
were even tinder-box and candle on the mantel-shelf. 
Jamie was in high excitement and delight. This was 
the ogre's cottage to which Jack had climbed up the 
bean-stalk. He was sure to find somewhere the hen 
that laid golden eggs, and the harp that played of itself. 

Judith seated herself on one of the benches and 
sorted her shells, leaving Jamie to amuse himself. 
As the house was uninhabited, it did not seem to her 
that any gross impropriety existed in allowing him 
to run in and out and peep round the rooms, and 
into the corners. 

11 Judith," he exclaimed, coming to her from an 
adjoining room, " there is a bed in here, and there 
are crooks in the wall ! " 

11 What are the crooks for, dear ? " 

" For climbing, I think." 



'24 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

Then he ran back, and she saw no more of him for 
a while, but heard him scrambling. 

She rose and went to the door into the adjoining 
apartment to see that he was after no mischief. She 
found that this apartment was intended for sleeping in. 
There was a bedstead with a mattress on it, but no 
clothes. Jamie had found some crooks in the wall, 
and was scrambling up these, with hands and feet, 
towards the ceiling, where she perceived an opening, 
apparently into the attic. 

" Oh Jamie ! what are you doing there ? " 

"Ju, I want to see whether there is anything 
between the roof and the ceiling. There may be the 
harp there, or the hen that lays golden eggs." 

" The shower is nearly over ; I shall not wait for 
you." 

She seated herself on the bed and watched him. 
He thrust open a sliding board, and crawled through 
into the attic. He would soon tire of exploring among 
the rafters, and would return dirty, and have to be 
cleared of cobwebs and dust. But it amused the boy. 
He was ever restless, and she would find it difficult to 
keep him occupied sitting by her below till the rain 



OTHELLO COTTAGE. 25 

ceased, so she allowed him to scramble and search 
as he pleased. Very few minutes had passed before 
Judith heard a short cough in the main room, and 
she at once rose and stepped back into it to apologize 
for her intrusion. To her great surprise she found her 
aunt there, at the little window, measuring it. 

"A couple of yards will do — double width," said 
Miss Trevisa. 

"Auntie!" exclaimed Judith. "Who ever would 
have thought of seeing you here ? " 

Miss Trevisa turned sharply round, and her lips 
tightened. 

"And who w r ould have thought of seeing you here," 
she answered, curtly. 

"Auntie, the rain came on; I ran in here so as 
not to be wet through. To whom does this house 
belong?" 

" To the master — to whom else ? Captain Cop- 
pinger." 

" Are you measuring the window for blinds for 
him?" 

" I am measuring for blinds, but not for him." 

" But — who lives here ? " 



26 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" No one as yet." 

" Is any one coming to live here ? " 
" Yes— I am." 

" Oh auntie ! and are we to come here with you ? " 
Miss Trevisa snorted, and stiffened her back. 
" Are you out of your senses, like Jamie, to ask such 
a question ? What is the accommodation here ? Two 
little bedrooms, one large kitchen, and a lean-to for 
scullery — that is all — a fine roomy mansion for three 
people indeed ! " 

" But, auntie, are you leaving the Glaze ? " 
" Yes, I am. Have you any objection to that ? " 
" No, aunt, only I am surprised. And Captain 
Cruel lets you have this dear little cottage." 

''As to its being dear, I don't know, I am to have 
it ; and that is how you have found it open to poke 
and pry into. I came up to look round and about me, 
and then found I had not brought my measuring tape 
with me, so I returned home for that, and you found 
the door open and thrust yourself in." 

" I am very sorry if I have given you annoyance." 
" Oh, it's no annoyance to me. The place is not 
mine yet." 



OTHELLO COTTAGE. 27 

" But when do you come here, Aunt Dunes ? " 

"When?" Miss Trevisa looked at her niece with 
a peculiar expression in her hard face that Judith 
noticed, but could not interpret. "That," said Miss 
Trevisa, " I do not know yet." 

" I suppose you will do up that dear little garden," 
said Judith. 

Miss Trevisa did not vouchsafe an answer ; she 
grunted, and resumed her measuring. 

" Has this cottage been vacant for long, auntie?" 

"Yes." 

" But, auntie, some one comes here. It is not quite 
deserted." 

Miss Trevisa said to herself, " Four times two and 
one breadth torn in half to allow for folds will do it. 
Four times two is eight, and one breadth more is ten." 

Just then Jamie appeared, shyly peeping through the 
door. He had heard his aunt's voice, and was afraid 
to show himself. Her eye, however, observed him, and 
in a peremptory tone she ordered him to come forward. 

But Jamie would not obey her willingly, and he 
deemed it best for him to make a dash through the 
kitchen to the open front door. 



28 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" That boy! " growled Miss Trevisa, " I'll be bound 
he has been at mischief." 

" Auntie, I think the rain has ceased, I will say 
good-bye." 

Then Judith left the cottage. 

"Ju," said Jamie, when he was with his sister 
beyond earshot of the aunt, " such fun — I have some- 
thing to tell you." 

" What is it, Jamie ? " 

" I won't tell you till we get home." 

" Oh, Jamie, not till we get back to Polzeath ? " 

" Well, not till we get half-way home — to the white 
gate. Then I will tell you." 



CHAPTER XXII. 

JAMIE'S RIDE. 

" Now, Jamie ! the white gate." 

" The white gate ! — what about that ? " He had 
forgotten his promise. 

"You have a secret to tell me." 

Then the boy began to laugh and to tap his pockets. 

" What do you think Ju ! look what I have found. 
Do you know what is in the loft of the cottage we were 
in ? There are piles of tobacco, all up hidden away 
in the dark under the rafters. I have got my pockets 
stuffed as full as they will hold. It is for Uncle 
Zachie. Won't he be pleased ? " 

" Oh Jamie ! you should not have done that." 

"Why not? Don't scold, Ju ! " 

" It is stealing." 



3o IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" No, it is not. No one lives there." 

" Nevertheless it belongs to some one, by whatever 
means it was got, and for whatever purpose stowed 
away there. You had no right to touch it." 

" Then why do you take snail-shells ? " 

" They belong to no one, no one values them. It is 
other with this tobacco. Give it up. Take it back 
again." 

" What — to Aunt Dunes ? I daren't, she's so 
cross." 

" Well, give it to me, and I will take it to her. 
She is now at the cottage, and the tobacco can be 
replaced." 

" Oh, Ju, I should like to see her scramble up the 
wall ! " 

" I do not think she will do that ; but she will 
contrive somehow to have the tobacco restored. It 
is not yours, and I believe it belongs to Captain 
Cruel. If it be not given back now he may hear of it, 
and be very angry." 

" He would beat me," said the boy, hastily 
emptying his pockets. " I'd rather have Aunt 
.Dunes' jaw than Captain Cruel's stick." He gave the 



JAMIE'S RIDE. 31 

tobacco to his sister, but he was not in a good humour. 
He did not see the necessity for restoring it. But 
Jamie never disobeyed his sister, when they were 
alone, and she was determined with him. Before 
others he tried to display his independence, by feeble 
defiances never long maintained, and ending in a 
reconciliation with tears and kisses, and promises of 
submission without demur for the future. With all, 
even the most docile children, there occur epochs when 
they try their wings, strut and ruffle their plumes, and 
crow very loud — epochs of petulance or boisterous out- 
break of self-assertion in the face of their guides and 
teachers. If the latter be firm, the trouble passes 
away to be renewed at a future period till manhood 
or womanhood is reached, and then guide and teacher 
who is wise falls back, lays down control, and lets the 
pupils have their own way. But if at the first attempts 
at mastery, those in authority, through indifference or 
feebleness or folly, give way, then the fate of the 
children is sealed, they are spoiled for ever. 

Jamie had his rebellious fits, and they were dis- 
tressing to Judith, but she never allowed herself to 
be conquered. She evaded provoking them whenever 



32 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

possible ; and as much as possible led him by his 
affection. He had a very tender heart, was devotedly 
attached to his sister, and appeals to his better nature 
were usually successful, not always immediately, but 
in the long run. 

Her association with Jamie had been of benefit to 
Judith; it had strengthened her character. She had 
been forced from earliest childhood to be strong where 
he was weak, to rule because he was incapable of 
ruling himself. This had nurtured in her a decision 
of mind, a coolness of judgment, and an inflexibility of 
purpose unusual in a girl of her years. 

Judith walked to Othello Cottage, carrying the 
tobacco in her skirt, held up by both hands ; and 
Jamie sauntered back to Polzeath, carrying his 
sister's basket of shells, stopping at intervals to add 
to the collection, then ensconsing himself in a nook 
of the hedge to watch a finch, a goldhammer, or 
a blackbird, then stopped to observe and follow a 
beetle of gorgeous metallic hues that was running 
across the path. 

Presently he emerged into the highway, the parish 
road ; there was no main road in those parts maintained 



JAMIE'S RIDE. 33 

by toll-gates, and then observed a gig approach in which 
sat two men, one long and narrow-faced, the other tall, 
but stout and round-faced. He recognized the former 
at once as Mr. Scantlebray, the appraiser. Mr. 
Scantlebray, who was driving, nudged his companion, 
and with the butt-end of the whip pointed to the boy. 

"Heigh! hi-up ! Gaffer!" called Mr. Scantlebray, 
flapping his arms against his sides, much as does a 
cock with his wings. " Come along ; I have some- 
thing of urgent importance to say to you — something 
so good that it will make you squeak ; something so 
delicious that it will make your mouth water." 

This was addressed to Jamie, as the white mare 
leisurely trotted up to where the boy stood. Then 
Scantlebray drew up, with his elbows at right angles 
to his trunk. 

" Here's my brother thirsting, ravening to make 
your acquaintance — and by George ! you are in luck's 
way, young hopeful, to make his. Obadiah ! this here 
infant is an orphing. Orphing ! this is Obadiah 
Scantlebray, whom I call Scanty because he is fat. 
Jump up, will y', into the gig." 

Jamie looked vacantly about him. He had an idea 

vol. ii. 4 



34 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

that he ought to wait for Judith or go directly home. 
But she had not forbidden him to have a ride, and a 
ride was what he dearly loved. 

" Are you coming ? " asked Scantlebray ; " or do you 
need a more ceremonious introduction to Mr. Obadiah, 
eh?" 

" I've got a basket of shells," said Jamie. " They 
belong to Ju." 

"Well, put Ju's basket in — the shells won't hurt — and 
then in with you. There's a nice little portmantle in 
front, on which you can sit and look us in the face, and 
if you don't tumble off with laughing, it will be because 
I strap you in. My brother is the very comicalest 
fellow in Cornwall. It's a wonder I haven't died of 
laughter. I should have, but our paths diverged ; he 
took up the medical line, and I the valuation and all 
that, so my life was saved. Are you comfortable 
there? " 

"Yes, sir," said Jamie, seating himself where advised. 

"Now for the strap round ye," said Scantlebray. 
(i Don't be alarmed ; it's to hold you together, lest you 
split your sides with merriment, and to hold you in, 
lest you tumble overboard convulsed with laughter. 



JAMIE'S RIDE. 35 

That brother of mine is the killingest man in Great 
Britain. Look at his face. Bless me ! in church I 
should explode when I saw him, but that I am 
engrossed in my devotions. On with you, Juno ! " 

That to the grey mare, and a whip applied to make 
the grey mare trot along, which she did, with her head 
down lost in thought, or as if smelling the road, to 
make sure that she was on the right track. 

" 'Tisn't what he says," remarked Mr. Scantlebray, 
-seeing a questioning expression on Jamie's innocent 
face, "it's the looks of him. And when he speaks — well, 
it's the way he says it more than what he says. I was 
at a Charity Trust dinner, and Obadiah said to the 
waiter, ' Cutlets, please ! ' The fellow dropped the 
•dish, and I stuffed my napkin into my mouth, ran out, 
and went into a fit. Now, Scanty, show the young 
gentleman how to make a rabbit." 

Then Mr. Scantlebray tickled up the mare with the 
lash of his whip, cast some objurgations at a horse-fly 
that was hovering and then darting at Juno. 

Mr. Obadiah drew forth a white but very crumpled 
kerchief from his pocket, and proceeded to fold it on 
his lap. 



36 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Just look at him," said the agent, " doing it in 
spite of the motion of the gig. It's wonderful. But 
his face is the butchery. I can't look at it for fear of 
letting go the reins." 

The roads were unfrequented ; not a person was 
passed as the party jogged along. Mr. Scantlebray 
hissed to the mare between his front teeth, which were 
wide apart ; then, turning his eye sideways, observed 
what his brother was about. 

" That's his carcase," said he, in reference to the 
immature rabbit. 

Then a man was sighted coming along the road,, 
humming a tune. It was Mr. Menaida. 

" How are you ? Compliments to the young lady 
orphing, and say we're jolly — all three," shouted 
Scantlebray, urging his mare to a faster pace, and 
keeping her up to it till they had turned a corner, and 
Menaida was no more in sight. 

" Just look at his face, as he's a-folding of that there 
pockyhandkercher," said the appraiser. " It's explod- 
ing work." 

Jamie looked into the stolid features of Mr. Obadiah, 
and laughed— laughed heartily, laughed till the tears. 



JAMIE'S RIDE. yj 

ran down his cheeks. Not that he saw aught humorous 
there, but that he was told it was there, he ought to 
see it, and would be a fool if he were not convulsed 
by it. 

Precisely the same thing happens with us. We 
look at and go into raptures over a picture, because it 
is by a Royal Academician who has been knighted on 
account of his brilliant successes. We are charmed at 
a cantata, stifling our yawns, because we are told by 
the art critics who are paid to puff it that we are fools, 
and have no ears if we do not feel charmed by it. We 
rush to read a new novel, and find it vastly clever, 
because an eminent statesman has said on a postcard it 
has pleased him. 

We laugh when told to laugh, condemn when told 
to condemn, and would stand on our heads if informed 
that it was bad for us to walk on our feet. 

"There!" said Mr. Scantlebray, the valuer. "Them's 
ears.'" 

" Crrrh ! " went Mr. Obadiah, and the handkerchief, 
•converted into a white bunny, shot from his hand up 
his left sleeve. 

"I can't drive, 'pon my honour ; I'm too ill. You 



38 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

have done for me to-day," said Scantlebray the elder, 
the valuer. " Now, young hopeful, what say you ? 
Will you make a rabbit also ? I'll give you a shilling 
if you will." 

Thereupon Jamie took the kerchief and spread it out 
and began to fold it. Whenever he went wrong Mr. 
Obadiah made signs, either by elevation of his brows 
and a little shake of his head, or by pointing, and his 
elder brother caught him at it and protested. Obadiah 
was the drollest fellow, he was incorrigible, as full of 
mischief as an egg is full of meat. There was no trust- 
ing him for a minute when the eye was off him. 

" Come, Scanty! I'll put you on your honour. Look 
the other way." But a moment after — "Ah, for shame! 
there you are at it again. Young hopeful, you see 
what a vicious brother I have; perfectly untrustworthy, 
but such a comical dog. Full of tricks up to the ears. 
You should see him make shadows on the wall. He 
can represent a pig eating out of a trough. You see 
the ears flap, the jaws move, the eye twinkle in ap- 
preciation of the barley-meal. It is to the life, and all 
done by the two hands — by one, I may say, for the 
other serves as trough. What ! Done the rabbit ? 



JAMIE'S RIDE. 39 

First rate ! Splendid ! Here is the shilling. But, 
honour bright, you don't deserve it ; that naughty 
Scanty helped you." 

" Please," said Jamie, timidly, " may I get out now 
and go home ? " 

" Go home ! What for ? " 

" I want to show Ju my shilling." 

11 By ginger ! that is too rich. Not a bit of it. Do 
you know Mistress Polgrean's sweetie shop ? " 

" But that's at Wadebridge." 

" At Wadebridge ; and why not ? You will spend 
your shilling there. But look at my brother. It is 
distressing ; his eyes are alight at the thoughts of 
the tartlets, and the sticks of peppermint sugar, and 
the almond rock. Are you partial to almond rock, 
orphing? " 

Jamie's mind was at once engaged. 

" Which is it to be ? Gingerbreads or tartlets, 
almond rock or barley-sugar ? " 

" I think I'll have the peppermint," said Jamie. 

" Then peppermint it shall be. And you will give 
me a little bit, and Scanty a bit, and take a little bit 
home to Ju, eh ? " 



4 o IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Yes, sir." 

" He'll take a little bit home to Ju, Obadiah, old 
man." 

The funny brother nodded. 
" And the basket of shells ? " asked the elder. 
" Yes, she is making little boxes with them to sell," 
said Jamie. 

" I suppose I may have the privilege of buying 
some," said Mr. Scantlebray senior. " Oh, look at 
that brother of mine ! How he is screwing his nose 
about ! I say, old man, are you ill ? Upon my life, I 
believe he is laughing." 

Presently Jamie got restless. 

"Please, Mr. Scantlebray, may I get out? Ju will be 
frightened at my being away so long." 

"Poor Ju ! " said Scantlebray the elder. "But no 
— don't you worry your mind about that. We passed 
Uncle Zachie, and he will tell her where you are, in 
good hands, or rather, nipped between most reliable 
knees — my brother's and mine. Sit still. I can't stop 
Juno ; we're going down-hill now, and if I stopped 
Juno she would fall. You must wait — wait till we get 
to Mrs. Polgrean's." Then, after chuckling to himself, 



JAMIE'S RIDE. 4r 

Scantlebray senior said, " Obadiah, old man, I wonder 
what Missie Ju is thinking? I wonder what she will 
say, eh ? " Again he chuckled. " No place in your 
establishment for that party, eh ? " 

The outskirts of Wadebridge were reached. 

" Now may I get out ? " said Jamie. 

" Bless my heart ! Not yet. Wait for Mrs. Pol- 
grean's." 

But presently Mrs. Polgrean's shop-window was 
passed. 

" Oh, stop ! stop ! " cried Jamie. " We have gone 
by the sweetie shop." 

" Of course we have," answered Scantlebray, senior. 
" I daren't trust that brother of mine in there ; he has 
such a terrible sweet tooth. Besides, I want you to see 
the pig eating out of the trough. It will kill you. If it 
don't, I'll give you another shilling." 

Presently he drew up at the door of a stiff, square- 
built house, with a rambling wing thrown out on one 
side. It was stuccoed and painted drab — drab walls, 
drab windows, and drab door. 

"Now, then, young man," said Scantlebray, cheerily, 
" I'll unbuckle the strap and let you out. You ccme 



42 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

in with me. This is my brother's mansion, roomy, 
pleasant, and comprehensive. You shall have a dish 
of tea." 

" And then I may go home ? " 

" And then — we shall see ; shan't we, Obadiah, old 
man ? " 

They entered the hall, and the door was shut and 
fastened behind them ; then into a somewhat dreary 
room, with red flock paper on the walls, no pictures, 
leather-covered old mahogany chairs, and a book or 
two on the table — one of these a Bible. 

Jamie looked wonderingly about him, a little disposed 
to cry. Ke was a long way from Polzeath, and Judith 
would be waiting for him and anxious, and the place 
into which he was ushered was not cheery, not inviting. 

" Now then," said Mr. Scantlebray, "young hopeful,, 
give me my shilling." 

"Please, I'm going to buy some peppermint and 
burnt almonds for Ju and me as I go back." 

"Oh, indeed! But suppose you do not have the. 
chance ? " 

Jamie looked vacantly in his face, then into that of 
the stolid brother, who was not preparing to show him 



JAMIE'S RIDE. 43 

the pig feeding out of a trough, nor was he calling for 
tea. 

" Come," said Scantlebray the elder; "suppose I take 
charge of that shilling till you have the chance of 
spending it, young man." 

" Please, I'll spend it now." 

" Not a bit. You won't have the chance. Do you 
know where you are ? " 

Jamie looked round in distress. He was becoming 
frightened at the altered tone of the valuer. 

"My dear," said Mr. Scantlebray, " you're now an 
honourable inmate of my brother's Establishment for 
Idiots, which you don't leave till cured of imbecility. 
That shilling, if you please ? " 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

ALL IS FOR THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS. 

Judith returned to the cottage of Mr. Menaida, 
troubled in mind, for Aunt Dunes had been greatly 
incensed at the taking of the tobacco by Jamie, and 
not correspondingly gratified by the return of it so 
promptly by Judith. Miss Trevisa was a woman who 
magnified and resented any wrong done, but minimized 
and passed over as unworthy of notice whatever was 
generous, and every attempt made to repay an evil. 
Such attempts not only met with no favour from her, but 
were perverted in her crabbed mind into fresh affronts 
or injuries. That the theft of Jamie would not have 
been discovered, had not Judith spoken of it, and 
brought back what had been taken, was made of no 
.account by Aunt Dionysia ; she attacked Judith with 



THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS. 45 

sharp reproach for allowing the boy to be mischievous, 
for indulging him and suffering him to run into danger 
through his inquisitiveness and thoughtlessness. 
" For," said x\unt Dionysia, " had the master or 2s\y 
of his men found out what Jamie had done, there is 
no telling how he might have been served." Then 
she had muttered, " If you will not take precautions, 
other folk must, and the boy must be put where he 
can be properly looked after and kept from interfering 
with the affairs of others." 

On reaching Mr. Menaida's cottage, Judith called 
her brother, but as she did not receive an answer, she 
went in quest of him, and was met by the servant, 
Jump. " If you please, miss," said Jump, "there's 
been two gen'lemen here, as said they was come from 
Mrs. Trevisa, and said they was to pack and take off 
Master Jamie's clothes. And please, miss, I didn't 
know what to do — they was gen'lemen, and the master 
— he was out, and you was out, miss — and Master 
Jamie, he wasn't to home n'other." 

" Taken Jamie's clothes ! " repeated Judith, in 
amazement. 

" Yes, miss, they brought a portmantle a-purpose ; 



46 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

and they'd a gig at the door ; and they spoke un- 
common pleasant, leastwise one o' them did." 

" And where is Jamie ? Has he not come 
home?" 

" No, miss." 

At that moment Mr. Menaida came in. 

" What is it, Judith ? Jamie ? Where Jamie is ? — 
why, having a ride, seated between the two Scantle- 
brays, in their gig. That is where he is." 

"Oh, Mr. Menaida, but they have taken his clothes!" 

"Whose clothes?" 

'" Jamie's." 

" I do not understand." 

" The two gentlemen came to this house when you 
and I were out, and told Jump that they were em- 
powered by my aunt to pack up and carry off all 
Jamie's clothing, which they put into a portmanteau 
they had brought with them." 

" And then picked up Jamie. He was sitting on the 
portmanteau," said Uncle Zachie; then his face 
•became grave. " They said that they acted under 
authority from Mrs. Trevisa ? " 

" So Jump says." 



THE BEST IN THE LEST OF WORLDS. 47 

" It can surely not be that he has been moved to the 
asylum." 

" Asylum, Mr. Menaida ? " 

" The idiot asylum." 

Judith uttered a cry, and staggered back against the 
wall. 

" Jamie ! my brother Jamie ! " 

" Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray has such a place at 
Wadebridge." 

" But Jamie is not an idiot." 

"Your aunt authorized them " mused Uncle 

Zachie. " Humph I you should see her about it. 
That is the first step, and ascertain whether she has 
done it, or whether they are acting with a high hand 
for themselves. I'll look at my law-books — if the latter 
it would be actionable." 

Judith did not hesitate for a moment. She hastened 
to Pentyre. That her aunt had left Othello Cottage 
she was pretty sure, as she was preparing to leave it 
when Judith returned with the tobacco. Accordingly 
she took the road to Pentyre at once. Tears of shame 
and pain welled up in her eyes at the thought of her 
darling brother being beguiled away to be locked up 



48 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

among the imbecile in a private establishment for the 
insane. Then her heart was contracted with anger 
and resentment at the scurvy trick played on her and 
him. She did not know that the Scantlebrays had 
been favoured by pure accident. She conceived that 
men base enough to carry off her brother would watch 
and wait for the opportunity when to do it unobserved 
and unopposed. She hardly walked. She ran till her 
breath failed her, and the rapid throbbing of her heart 
would no longer allow her to run. Her dread of 
approaching the Glaze after the declaration made by 
Captain Cruel was overwhelmed in her immediate 
desire to know something about Jamie, in her anguish 
of fear for him. On Coppinger she did not cast a 
thought — her mind was so fully engrossed in her 
brother. 

She saw nothing of the Captain. She entered the 
house, and proceeded at once to her aunt's apartment. 
She found Miss Trevisa there, seated near the window, 
engaged on some chintz that she thought would do for 
the window at Othello Cottage, when she took posses- 
sion of it. She had measured the piece, found that it 
was suitable, and was turning down a hem and tacking 



THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS. 49 

it. It was a pretty chintz, covered with sprigs of 
nondescript pink and blue flowers. 

Judith burst in on her, breathless, her brow covered 
with dew, her bosom heaving, her face white with 
distress, and tears standing on her eyelashes. She 
threw herself on her knees before Miss Trevisa, half 
crying out and half sobbing — 

" Oh, aunt ! they have taken him ! " 

" Who have taken whom ? " asked the elderly lady, 
coldly. 

She raised her eyes and cast a look full of malevo- 
lence at Judith. She never had, did not, never would 
feel towards that girl as a niece. She hated her for 
her mother's sake, and now she felt an unreasonable 
bitterness against her, because she had fascinated 
Coppinger — perhaps, also, because in a dim fashion 
she was aware that she herself was acting towards the 
child in an unworthy, unmerciful manner, and we all 
hate those whom we wrong. 

" Auntie ! tell me it is not so. Mr. Scantlebray and 
his brother have carried my darling Jamie away." 

"Well, and what of that? " 

" But — will they let me have him back ? " 

VOL. II. 5 



50 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

Miss Trevisa pulled at the chintz. " I will trouble 
you not to crumple this," she said. 

" Aunt ! dear aunt ! you did not tell Mr. Scantlebray 
to take Jamie away from me ? " 

The old lady did not answer, she proceeded to 
release the material at which she was engaged from 
under the knees of Judith. The girl, in her 
vehemence, put her hands to her aunt's arms, between 
the elbows and shoulders, and held and pressed them 
back, and with imploring eyes looked into her hardjface. 

" Oh, auntie ! you never sent Jamie to an asylum ? " 

" I must beg you to let go my arms," said Miss 
Trevisa. " This conduct strikes me as most indecorous 
towards one of my age and relationship." 

She avoided Judith's eye, her brow wrinkled, and 
her lips contracted. The gall in her heart rose and 
overflowed. 

" I am not ashamed of what I have done." 

" Auntie ! " with a cry of pain. Then Judith let go 
the old lady's arms, and clasped her hands over her 
eyes. 

" Really," said Miss Trevisa, with asperity, " you 
are a most exasperating person. I shall do with the 



THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS. 51 

boy what I see fit. You know very well that he is a 
thief." 

" He never took anything before to-day — never — 
and you had settled this before you knew about the 
tobacco ! " burst from Judith, in anger and with floods 
of tears. 

" I knew that he has always been troublesome and 
•mischievous, and he must be placed where he can be 
properly managed by those accustomed to such cases." 

" There is nothing the matter with Jamie." 

■" You have humoured and spoiled him. If he is 
such a plague to all who know him, it is because he 
has been treated injudiciously. He is now with men 
who are experienced, and able to deal with the like of 
Jamie." 

"Aunt, he must not be there. I promised my papa 
to be ever with him, and to look after him." 

" Then it is a pity your father did not set this down 
in writing. Please to remember that I, and not you, 
.am constituted his guardian, by the terms of the will." 

" Oh, aunt ! aunt ! let him come back to me ! " 

Miss Trevisa shook her head. 

" Then let me go to him ! " 



UNIVERSITY OF 
ILLINOIS LIBRARY 



52 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Hoity-toity ! here's airs and nonsense. Really, 
Judith, you are almost imbecile enough to qualify for 
the asylum. But I cannot afford the cost of you both. 
Jamie's cost in that establishment will be £70 in the 
year, and how much do you suppose that you possess?'' 

Judith remained kneeling upright, with her hands 
clasped, looking earnestly through her tears at her 
aunt. 

" You have in all, between you, but £45 or £50. 
When the dilapidations are paid, and the expenses of 
the funeral, and the will-proving, and all that, I do not 
suppose you will be found to have a thousand pounds 
between you, and that put out to interest will not bring 
you more than I have said ; so I shall have to make 
up the deficiency. That is not pleasing to me, you 
may well suppose. But I had rather pay £25 out of 
my poor income, than have the name of the family- 
disgraced by Jamie." 

"Jamie will never, never disgrace the name. He is 
too good. And — it is wicked, it is cruel to put him 
where you have. He is not an idiot." 

" I am perhaps a better judge than you ; so also is 
Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray, who has devoted his life to 



THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS. 53 

the care and study of the imbecile. Your brother has 
weak intellects." 

"He is not clever, that is all. With application " 

" He cannot apply his mind. He has no mind that 
can be got to be applied." 

" Aunt, he's no idiot. He must not be kept in that 
place." 

"You had best go back to Polzeath. I have decided 
on what I considered right. I have done my duty." 

"It cannot be just. I will see what Mr. Menaida 
says. He must be released ; if you will not let him 
out, I will." 

Miss Trevisa looked up at her quickly between her 
half-closed lids; a bitter, cruel smile quivered about 
her lips. " If any one can deliver him, it will be you." 

Judith did not understand her meaning, and Aunt 
Dionysia did not care at that time to further enlighten 
her thereon. Finding her aunt inflexible, the unhappy 
girl left Pentyre Glaze and hurried back to Polzeath, 
where she implored Mr. Menaida to accompany her to 
Wadebridge. Go there she would — she must — that 
same evening. If he would not attend her, she would 
go alone. She could not rest, she could not remain in 



54 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

the house, till she had been to the place where Jamie 
was, and seen whether she could not release him thence 
by her entreaties, her urgency. 

Mr. Menaida shook his head. But he was a kind- 
hearted old man, and was distressed at the misery of 
the girl, and would not hear of her making the expedi- 
tion alone, as she could not well return before dark. 
So he assumed his rough and shabby beaver hat, put 
on his best cravat, and sallied forth with Judith upon 
her journey to Wadebridge, one that he assured her 
must be fruitless, and had better be postponed till the 
morrow. 

" I cannot ! I cannot ! " she cried. " I cannot sleep, 
thinking of my darling brother in that dreadful place, 
with such people about him — he crying, frightened, 
driven mad by the strangeness of it all, and being 
away from me. I must go. If I cannot save him and 
bring him back with me, I can see him and console 
him, and bid him wait in patience and hope." 

Mr. Menaida, with a soft heart and a weak will, was 
hung about with scraps of old-world polish, scraps only. 
In him nothing was complete — here and there a bare 
place of rustic uncouthness, there patches of velvet 



THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS. 55 

courtesy of the Queen Anne age ; so, also, was he 
made up of fine culture, of classic learning alternating 
with boorish ignorance — here high principle, there none 
at all — a picture worked to a miniature in points, and 
in others rudely roughed in and neglected. Now he 
was moved as he had not been moved for years by the 
manifest unhappiness of the girl, and he was willing to 
do his utmost to assist her, but that utmost consisted 
in little more than accompanying her to Wadebridge and 
ringing at the house-bell of Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray's 
establishment. When it came to the interview that 
ensued with the proprietor of the establishment and 
gaoler of Jamie, he failed altogether. Judith and 
Uncle Zachie were shown into the dreary parlour, 
without ornaments, and presently to them entered Mr. 
Obadiah. 

"Oh, sir! is he here? — have you got Jamie 
here?" 

Mr. Scantlebray nodded his head, then went to the 
door and knocked with his fists against the wall. A 
servant maid appeared. " Send missus," said he, and 
returned to the parlour. 

Again Judith entreated to be told if her brother were 



36 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

there with all the vehemence and fervour of her tattered 
heart. 

Mr. Obadiah listened with stolid face and vacant 
eyes that turned from her to Mr. Menaida, and then 
■back to her again. Presently an idea occurred to him, 
and his face brightened. He went to a sideboard, 
opened a long drawer, brought out a large book, thrust 
it before Judith, and said, " Pictures." Then, as she 
took no notice of the book, he opened it. 

" Oh, please, sir," pleaded Judith, " I don't want 
that. I want to know about Jamie. I want to see 
him." 

Then in at the door came a lady in black silk, with 
small curls about her brow. She was stout, but not 
florid. 

"What!" said she, "my dear, are you the young 
lady whose brother is here ? Don't you fret yourself. 
He is as comfortable as a chick in a feathered nest. 
Don't you worry your little self about him now. Now 
your good days have begun. He will not be a trouble 
and anxiety to you any more. He is well cared for. I 
dare be sworn he has given you many an hour of 
anxiety. Now, O be joyful ! that is over, and you can 



THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS. $7 

dance and play with a light heart. I have lifted the 
load off you, I and Mr. Scantlebray. Here he will be 
very comfortable and perfectly happy. I spare no pains 
to make my pets snug, and Scantlebray is inexhaustible 
in his ability to amuse them. He has a way with these 
innocents that is quite marvellous. Wait a while — 
give him and me a trial, and see what the result is. 
You may believe me as one of long and tried experience. 
It never does for amateurs — for relations — to undertake 
these cases; they don't know when to be firm, or when 
to yield. We do — it is our profession. We have studied 
the half-witted." 

" But my brother is not half-witted." 

" So you say, and so it becomes you to say. Never 
admit that there is imbecility or insanity in the family. 
You are quite right, my dear; you look forward to being 
married some day, and you know very well it might 
stand in the way of an engagement, were it supposed 
that you had idiocy in the family blood. It is quite 
right. I understand all that sort of thing. We call it 
nervous debility, and insanity we term nervous excite- 
ment. Scantlebray, my poppet, isn't it so? " 

Mr. Obadiah nodded. 



58 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

"You leave all care to us; thrust it upon our 
shoulders. They will bear it; and never doubt that 
your brother will be cared for in body and in souL 
In body— always something nice and light for supper, 
tapioca, rice-pudding, batter ; to-night, roily-poly- 
After that, prayers. We don't feed high, but we feed 
suitably. If you like to pay a little extra, we will feed 
higher. Now, my dear, you take all as for the best, 
and rely on it everything is right.' 1 

" But Jamie ought not to be locked up." 
" My dear, he is at school under the wisest and most 
experienced of teachers. You have mismanaged him. 
Now he will be treated professionally ; and Mr. 
Scantlebray superintends not the studies only, but 
the amusements of the pupils. He has such a fund 
of humour in him." Obadiah at once produced his- 
pocket-handkerchief and began to fold it. "No, dear, 
no, ducky, no rabbit now ! You fond thing, you !. 
always thinking of giving entertainment to some one. 
No, nor the parson preaching either." He was rolling 
his hands together and thrusting up his thumb as the 
representative of a sacred orator in his pulpit. " No, 
ducky darling ! another time. My husband is quite a 



THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS. 59 

godsend to the nervously prostrate. He can amuse 
them by the hour ; he never wearies of it ; he is never 
so happy as when he is entertaining them. You 
cannot doubt that your brother will be content in the 
house of such a man. Take my word for it, there is 
nothing like believing that all is for the best as it is- 
Our pupils will soon be going to bed. Rolly-poly and 
prayers, and then to bed — that is the order." 

" Oh, let me see Jamie now." 

" Xo, my dear. It would be injudicious. He is 
settling in ; he is becoming reconciled, and it would 
disturb him, and undo what has already been done. 
Don't you say so, poppet ? " 

The poppet nodded his head. 

" You see, this great authority agrees with me. 
Now, this evening Jamie and the others shall have 
an extra treat. They shall have the pig eating out of 
the trough. There — what more can you desire ? As 
soon as lights are brought in, then rolly-poly, prayers, 
and the pig and the trough. Another time you shall 
see him. Not to-night. It is inadvisable. Take my 
word for it, your brother is as happy as a boy can be. 
He has found plenty of companions of the same condi- 
tion as himself." 



6o IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" But he is not an idiot." 

" My dear, we know all about that ; very nice and 
sweet for you to say so — isn't it, duckie ? " 

The duckie agreed it was so. 

"There is the bell. My dear, another time. You 
will promise to come and see me again? I have had 
such a delightful talk with you. Good-night, good- 
night. 'All is for the best in the best of worlds.' Put 
that maxim under your head and sleep upon it." 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



A NIGHT EXCURSION. 



Some people are ever satisfied with what is certain to 
give themselves least trouble, especially if that some- 
thing concerns other persons. 

Mr. Menaida was won over by the volubility of Mrs. 
Scantlebray and the placidity of Mr. Scantlebray to the 
conviction that Jamie was in the very best place he 
could possibly be in. A lady who called Judith " my 
dear" and her husband " duckie " must have a kindly 
heart, and a gentleman like Mr. Obadiah, so full of 
resources, could not fail to divert and gratify the minds 
of those under his charge, and banish care and sorrow. 
And as Mr. Menaida perceived that it would be a diffi- 
cult matter to liberate Jamie from the establishment 
where he was, and as it was an easy matter to conclude 
that the establishment was admirably adapted to Jamie, 



'62 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

he was content that Aunt Dionysia had chosen the 
wisest course in putting him there, and that it would 
he to the general advantage to cherish this opinion. 
For, in the first place, it would pacify Judith, and then, 
by pacifying her, would give himself none of that in- 
convenience, that running to and fro between Polzeath 
and Wadebridge, that consultation of law-books, that 
correspondence, that getting of toes and fingers into 
hot water, likely to result from the impatience, the 
unflagging eagerness of Judith to liberate her brother. 

Accordingly Uncle Zachie used his best endeavours 
to assure Judith that Jamie certainly was happy, had 
never been so happy in his life before, and that, under 
the treatment of so kind and experienced a man as Mr. 
Obadiah Scantlebray, there was reason to believe that 
in a short time Jamie would issue from under his 
tuition a light so brilliant as to outshine the beacon 
on Trevose Head. 

Judith was unconvinced. Love is jealous and 
timorous. She feared lest all should not be as was 
represented. There was an indefinable something in 
Mrs. Scantlebray that roused her suspicion. She could 
not endure that others should step into the place of 



A NIGHT EXCURSION. 63 

responsibility towards Jamie she had occupied so long, 
and which she had so solemnly assured her father she 
would never abandon. Supposing that Scantlebray 
and his wife were amiable and considerate persons, 
might they not so influence the fickle Jamie as to 
■displace her from his affections and insinuate them- 
selves in her room ? 

But it was not this mainly that troubled her. She 
was tormented with the thought of the lonely, nervous 
child in the strange house, among strange people, in 
desolation of heart and deadly fear. 

Whenever he had become excited during the day he 
was sleepless at night, and had to be soothed and 
coaxed into slumber. On such occasions she had been 
wont, with the infinite, inexhaustible patience of true 
love, to sit by his bed, pacifying his alarms, allaying 
his agitation, singing to him, stroking his hair, holding 
his hand, till his eyes closed. And how often, just as 
he seemed about to drop asleep, had he become again 
suddenly awake, through some terror, or some imagined 
discomfort? then all the soothing process had to be gone 
through again, and it had always been gone through 
without a murmur or an impatient word. 



64 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

Now Jamie was alone — or perhaps worse than alone 
— in a dormitory of idiots, whose strange ways filled 
him with terror, and his dull mind would be working 
to discover how he came to be there, how it was that 
his Ju was not with him. Who would lull his fears,. 
who sing to him old familiar strains ? Would any- 
other hand rest on the hot brow and hold it down on 
the pillow? 

Judith looked up to heaven, to the stars already 
glimmering there. She was not hearkening to the talk 
of Uncle Zachie : she was thinking her own thoughts. 
She was indeed walking back to Polzeath ; but her 
mind was nailed to that dull drab house in the suburbs 
of Wadebridge with the brass plate on the door, 
inscribed, " Mr. Scantlebray, Surgeon." As her eyes 
were raised to the stars, she thought of her father. He 
was above, looking down on her, and it seemed to her 
that in the flicker of the stars she saw the trouble in her 
father's face at the knowledge that his children were 
parted, and his poor little half-bright boy was fallen 
among those who had no love for him, might have no 
patience with his waywardness, would not make allow- 
ance for his infirmities. 



A NIGHT EXCURSION. 65. 

She sobbed, and would not be comforted by Mr. 
Menaida's assurances. Tired, foot-weary, but more 
tired and weary in heart and mind, she reached the 
cottage. She could not sleep ; she was restless. She 
sought Jamie's room, and seated herself on the chair 
by his little bed, and sobbed far on into the night. Her 
head ached, as did her burning and blistered feet ; and 
as she sat she dozed off, then awoke with a start, so 
distinctly did she seem to hear Jamie's voice — his 
familiar tone when in distress — crying, " Ju ! Come to 
me, Ju ! " So vividly did the voice sound to her that 
she could not for a moment or two shake off the con- 
viction that she had in reality heard him. She thought 
that he must have called her. He must be unhappy. 
What were those people doing to him ? Were they 
tormenting the poor little frightened creature ? Were 
they putting him into a dark room by himself, and was 
he nearly mad with terror? Were they beating him, 
because he cried out in the night and disturbed the 
house ? 

She imagined him sitting up on a hard bed, shivering 
with fear, looking round him in the dark, and scream- 
ing for her — and she could not help him. 

vol. 11. 6 



66 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Oh, Jamie ! " she cried, and threw herself on her 
knees and put her hands over her eyes to shut out the 
horrible sight, over her ears to close them to the 
piercing cry. " They will drive him mad ! Oh, papa ! 
my papa ! what will you say to me ? Oh, my Jamie ! 
what can I do for you ? " 

She was half mad herself, mad with fancies, con- 
jured up by the fever of distress into which she had 
worked herself. What could she do ? She could not 
breathe in that room. She could not breathe in the 
house. She could not remain so far from Jamie — and 
he crying for her. His voice rang still in her ears. 
It sounded in her heart, it drew her irresistibly away. 
If she could but be outside that drab establishment in 
the still night, to listen, and hear if all were quiet within, 
or whether Jamie were calling, shrieking for her. He 
would cry himself into fits. He would become really 
deranged, unless he were pacified. Oh ! those people ! 
— she imagined they were up, not knowing what to do 
with the boy, unable to soothe him, and were now 
wishing that she were there, wishing they had not sent 
her away. 

Judith was in that condition which is one of half craze 



A XIGHT EXCURSION. 67 

through brooding on her fears, through intense sym- 
pathy with the unhappy boy so ruthlessly spirited away, 
through fever of the blood, caused by long-protracted 
nervous strain, through over-weariness of mind and bod)-. 
Jamie's distress, his need for her became an idea that 
laid hold of her, that could not be dispelled, that tor- 
tured her into recklessness. She could not lie on her 
bed, she could not rest her head for one moment. She 
ran to the window, panting, and smoked the glass with 
her burning breath, so that she could not see through 
it. 

The night was still, the sky clear, and there were 
stars in it. Who would be abroad at that time ? 
What danger would ensue to her if she went out and 
ran back to W T adebridge ? If any foot were to be heard 
on the road, she could hide. She had gone out at 
night in storm to save Cruel Coppinger — should she 
not go out in still starlight to aid her own twin- 
brother, if he needed her ? Providence had shielded 
her before — it would shield her now. 

The house was quiet. Mr. Menaida had long ago gone 
to bed, and was asleep. His snores were usually audible 
.at night through the cottage. Jump was asleep, sound 



68 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

in sleep as any hard-worked sewing-wench. Judith had 
not undressed, had not taken off her shoes ; she had 
wandered, consumed by restlessness, between her own 
room and that of her brother. 

It was impossible for her to remain there. She felt 
that she would die of imaginings of evil unless she were 
near Jamie, unless there were naught but a wall 
between him and her. 

Judith descended the stairs and once again went 
forth alone into the night, not now to set her face sea- 
ward, but landward ; before she had gone with a defined 
aim in view, to warn Coppinger of his danger, now she 
was moved by a vague suspicion of evil. 

The night was calm, but there was summer lightning 
on the horizon, attended by no thunder, a constant 
flicker, sometimes a flare, as though some bonfire were 
kindled beyond the margin of the world, that was 
being stirred and added to. The air was close. 

Judith had no one to look to in the world to help her 
and Jamie — not her aunt, her sole relative, it was she 
who had sent her brother to this place of restraint ; not 
Mr. Menaida, he had not the moral courage and energy 
of purpose to succour her in her effort to release Jamie ; 



A NIGHT EXCURSION. 69 

not Captain Coppinger — him she dare not ask, lest he 
should expect too much in return. The hand of mis- 
fortune was heavy on the girl ; if anything was to be 
done to relieve the pressure, she must do it herself. 

As she was going hastily along the lane she suddenly 
halted. She heard some one a little way before her. 
There was no gate near by which she could escape. 
The lane was narrow, and the hedges low, so as not to 
afford sufficient shadow to conceal her. By the red 
summer flashes she saw a man reeling towards her 
round the corner. His hat was on one side of his head, 
and he lurched first to one side of the lane, then to the 
other. 

" There went three trav'lers over the moor — 
Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol, huph ! said he. 
Three trav'lers over the moor so green, 
The one sang high, the third sang low, 

Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol, huph ! said he, 
And the second he trolled between." 

Then he stood still. 

''Huph! huph!" he shouted. "Some one else go 
on, I'm done for — ' Ri-tiddle-de.' " 

He saw Judith by the starlight and by the flicker of 



7 o IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

the lightning, and put his head on one side and capered 
towards her with arms extended, chirping — " 'Ri-tiddle- 
riddle-rol, huph ! said he.' " 

Judith started on one side, and the drunken man pur- 
sued her, but in so doing, stumbled, and fell sprawling 
on the ground. He scrambled to his feet again, and 
began to swear at her and send after her a volley of foul 
and profane words. Had he contented himself with 
this it would have been bad enough, but he also picked 
up a stone and threw it. Judith felt a blow on her 
head, and the lightning flashes seemed to be on all 
sides of her, and then great black clouds to be rising 
like smoke out of the earth about her. She staggered 
into the hedge, and sank on her knees. 

But fear lest the tipsy ruffian should pursue her 
nerved her to make an effort to escape. She quickly 
rose and ran along the lane, turned the corner, and ran 
on till her feet would no longer bear her, and her breath 
failed. Then, looking back, and seeing that she was 
not followed, she seated herself, breathless, and feeling 
sick, in the hedge, where a glow-worm was shining, 
with a calm, steady light, very different from the flicker 
of the stars above. 



A NIGHT EXCURSION. yi 

As she there sat, she was conscious of something 
warm on her neck, and putting her hand up, felt that 
it was moist. She held her fingers to the faint glow of 
the worm in the grass ; there was a dark stain on her 
hand, and she was sure that it was blood. 

She felt her head swim, and knew that in another 
moment she would lose consciousness, unless she made 
an effort to resist. Hastily she bound a white hand- 
kerchief about her head where wounded by the stone, 
to stay the flow, and walked resolutely forward. 

There was now a shadow stealing up the sky to the 
south, and obscuring the stars, a shadow behind which 
danced and wavered the electrical light, but Judith 
heard no thunder, she had not the leisure to listen. for 
it ; all her anxiety was to reach Wadebridge. But the 
air, the oppressively sultry air, was charged with sound, 
the mutter and growl of the Atlantic. The ocean, 
never at rest, ever gives forth a voice, but the volume 
of its tone varies. Now it was loud and threatening, 
loud and threatening as it had been on that afternoon 
when Judith sat with her father in the rectory garden, 
tossing guelder-roses. Then, the air had been still, 
but burdened with the menace of the sea. So was it 



72 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

now at midnight ; the ocean felt the influence of the 
distant storm that was playing far away to the 
south. 

Judith could not run now. Her feet were too sore, her 
strength had given way. Resolute though her will 
might be, it could not inspire with masculine strength 
the fragile little body, recently recovered from sick- 
ness. But it carried her into the suburbs of Wade- 
bridge, and in the starlight she reached the house of 
Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray, and stood before it, looking 
up at it despairingly. It was not drab in colour now, 
it was lampblack against a sky that flashed in the 
russet-light. The kerchief she had tied about her 
head had become loose. Still looking at the ugly, 
gloomy house, she put up her arms and rebound it, 
knotting the ends more tightly, using care not to cover 
her ears, as she was intent to hear the least sound that 
issued from the asylum. But for some time she could 
hear nothing save the rush of her blood in her ears, 
foaming, hissing, like the tide entering a bay over 
reefs. With this was mingled the mutter of the Atlan- 
tic, beyond the hills — and now — yes, certainly now — the 
rumble of remote thunder. 



A NIGH! EXCURSION. 73 

Judith had stood on the opposite side of the street 
looking up at Scantlebray's establishment ; she saw no 
light anywhere. Now she drew near and crept along 
the walls. There was a long wing, with its back to 
the street, without a window in the wall, and she 
thought it probable that the inmates of the asylum 
were accommodated therein, a dormitory upstairs, play- 
or school-rooms below. There Jamie must be. The 
only windows to this wing opened into the garden ; and 
consequently Judith stole along the garden wall, turned 
the angle, down a little lane, and stood listening. The 
wall was high, and the summit encrusted with broken 
glass. She could see the glass prongs by the flicker of 
the lightning. She could not possibly see over the wall ; 
the lane was too narrow for her to go back far, and the 
wall on the further side too high to climb. Not a sound 
from within reached her ears. 

In the still night she stood holding her breath. 

Then a scream startled her. It was the cry of a gull 
flying inland. 

If a gull's cry could be heard, then surely that of her 
brother, were he awake and unhappy, and wanting 
her. 



74 /A 7 THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

She went further down the wall, and came on a small 
garden gate in it, fastened, locked from within. It had 
a stone step. On that she sank, and laid her head in 
her hands. 



CHAPTER XXV. 



FOUND. 



Strange mystery of human sympathy ! inexplicable, yet 
very real. Irrational, yet very potent. The young 
mother has accepted an invitation to a garden-party. 
She knows that she never looked better than at pre- 
sent, with a shade of delicacy about her. She has got 
a new bonnet that is particularly becoming, and which, 
she desires to wear in public. She has been secluded 
from society for several months, and she longs to meet 
her friends again. She knows that she is interesting, 
and believes herself to be more interesting than she 
really is. So she goes. She is talking, laughing, a 
little flushed with pleasure, when suddenly she be- 
comes grave, the hand that holds the plate of rasp- 
berries and cream trembles. All her pleasure is gone.. 



76 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

She knows that baby is crying. Her eye wanders in 
quest of her husband, she runs to him, touches his arm, 
says — 

" Do order the carriage ; baby is crying." 

It is all fiddle-de-dee. Baby has the best of nurses, 
the snuggest, daintiest little cot ; has a fresh-opened 
tin of condensed Swiss milk. Reason tells her that ; 
but no ! and nurse cannot do anything to pacify the 
child, baby is crying, nurse is in despair. 

In like manner now did Judith argue with herself, 
without being able to convince her heart. Her reason 
spoke and said to her — 

No sound of cries comes from the asylum. There 
is no light in any window. Every inmate is asleep, 
Jamie among them. He does not need you. He is 
travelling in dreamland. The Scantlebrays have been 
kind to him. The lady is a good, motherly body ; the 
gentleman's whole soul is devoted to finding amuse- 
ment and entertainment for the afflicted creatures 
under his care. He has played tricks before Jamie, 
made shadow-pictures on the wall, told funny stories, 
made jacks-in-the-box with his hands, and Jamie has 
laughed till he was tired, and his heavy eyes closed 



FOUND. 77 

with a laugh not fully laughed out on his lips. The 
Scantlebrays are paid £yo for taking care of Jamie, 
and £yo in Judith's estimation was a very princely 
sum. For £yo per annum Mr. Scantlebray would 
corruscate into his richest fun, and Mrs. Scantlebray's 
heart overflow with warmest maternal affection. 

But it was in vain that Judith thus reasoned, her 
heart would not be convinced. An indescribable 
unrest was in her, and would not be laid. She knew 
by instinct that Jamie wanted her, was crying for her,, 
was stretching out his hands in the dark for her. 

As she sat on the step not only did reason speak, 
but judgment also. She could do nothing there. She 
had acted a foolish part in coming all that way in the 
dark, and without a chance of effecting any deliverance 
to Jamie now she had reached her destination. She 
had committed an egregious error in going such a 
distance from home, from any one who might serve as 
protector to her in the event of danger, and there were 
other dangers she might encounter than having stones 
thrown at her by drunken men. If the watch were to 
find her there, what explanation of her presence could 
she give ? Would they take her away and lock her up for 



78 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

•the rest of the night ? They could not leave her there. 
Large, warm drops, like tears from angels' eyes, fell 
out of heaven upon her folded hands, and on her bowed 
neck. 

She began to feel chilled after having been heated by 
her walk, so she rose, and found that she had become 
-stiff. She must move about, how r ever sore and weary 
her feet might be. 

She had explored the lane as far as was needful. 
She could not see from it into the house, the garden, 
and playground. Was it possible that there was a lane 
on the further side of the house which would give her 
the desired opportunity ? 

Judith resolved to return by the way she had come, 
■down the lane into the main street, then to walk along 
the front of the house, and explore the other side. As 
she was descending the lane she noticed about twenty 
paces from the door, on the further side, a dense mass 
•of Portugal laurel that hung over the opposite wall, 
casting a shadow of inky blackness into the lane. This 
she considered might serve her as shelter when the 
threatening storm broke and the rain poured down. 
She walked through this shadow, and would have 



FOUND. 79 

entered the street, but that she perceived certain dark 
objects passing noiselessly along it. By the flashes of 
lightning she could distinguish men with laden asses, 
and one she saw turn to enter the lane where she 
was. She drew back hastily into the blot cast by the 
bush that swung its luxuriance over the wall, and drew 
as closely back to the wall as was possible. Thus she 
could not be seen, for the reflection of the lightning 
would not fall on her; every glare made the shadow 
seem the deeper. Though concealed herself, and 
wholly invisible, she was able to distinguish a man 
with an ass passing by, and then halting at the door in 
the wall that surrounded Mr. Obediah's tenement. 
There the man knocked, and uttered a peculiar whistle. 
As there ensued no immediate answer he knocked and 
whistled again, whereupon the door was opened, and a 
word or two was passed. 

" How many do you want, sir ? " 

" Four." 

" Any to help to carry the half-ankers ? " 

"No." 

" Well, no odds. I'll carry one and you the t'other. 
AYe"ll make two journeys, that's all. I can't leave 



So IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

Neddy for long, but I'll go with you to your house 
door." 

Probably the person addressed nodded a reply in the 
darkness, he made no audible answer. 

" Which is it, Mr. Obadiah. Rum or brandy ? " 

" Brandy." 

" Right you are, then. These are brandy. You won't 
take three brandies and one rum ? " 

"Yes." 

" All right, sir ; lead the way. It's deuced 
dark." 

Judith knew what this signified. Some of the 
householders of Wadebridge were taking in their 
supplies of spirits from the smugglers. Owing to the 
inconvenience of it being unlawful to deal with these 
men for such goods, they had to receive their purchases 
at night, and with much secrecy. There were watch- 
men at Wadebridge, but on such nights they judi- 
ciously patrolled another quarter of the town than 
that which received its supplies. The watchmen were 
municipal officials, and were not connected with the 
excise, had no particular regard for the Inland Revenue, 
anyhow, owed no duties to the officers of the coast- 



FOUND. 8 1 

guard. Their superior was the mayor, and the mayor 
was fond of buying his spirits at the cheapest 
market. 

Both men disappeared. The door was left open 
behind them. The opportunity Judith had desired 
had come. Dare she seize it ? For a moment she 
questioned her heart, then she resolutely stepped out 
of the shadow of the Portugal laurel, brushed past 
the patient ass, entered the grounds of Mr. Scantle- 
bray's establishment through the open garden door, 
and drew behind a syringa bush to consider what 
further step she should take. In another moment 
both men were back. 

" You are sure you don't mind one rum ? " 

"No." 

" Right you are, then ; I'll have it for you direct. 
The other kegs are at t'other end of the lane. You 
come with me, and we'll have 'em down in a jiffy." 

Judith heard both men pass out of the door. She 
looked towards the house. There was a light low 
down in a door opening into the garden or yard where 
she was. 

Not a moment was to be lost. As soon as the last 

vol. ii. 7 



82 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

kegs were brought in the house door would be locked, 
and though she had entered the garden she would be 
unable to penetrate to the interior of the asylum. 
Without hesitation, strong in her earnest purpose to 
help Jamie to the utmost of her power, and grasping at 
every chance that offered, she hastened, cautiously 
indeed, but swiftly, to the door whence the light pro- 
ceeded. The light was but a feeble one, and cast but 
a fluttering ray upon the gravel. Judith was careful 
to walk where it could not fall on her dress. 

The whole garden front of the house was not before 
her. She was in a sort of gravelled yard, with some 
bushes against the walls. The main block of the house 
lay to her right, and the view of it was intercepted by 
a wall. Clearly the garden space was divided, one 
portion for the house, and another, that into which she 
had entered, for the wing. That long wing rose before 
her, with its windows all dark above, and the lower, or 
ground floor, also dark. Only from the door issued 
the light, and she saw that a guttering tallow candle 
was set there on the floor. 

Hastily she drew back. She heard feet on the 
gravel. The men were returning. Mr. Obadiah 



FOUND. 83 

Scantlebray and the smuggler, each laden with a small 
cask of spirits. 

" Right you are," said the man, as he set his keg 
down in the passage ; " that's yours — and I could drink 
your health, sir." 

" You wouldn't — prefer ? " 

Mr. Scantlebray made contortions with his hands 
between the candle and the wall, and threw a shadow 
on the surface of plaster. 

" No thanky, sir. I'd prefer a shilling." 

Mr. Scantlebray fumbled in his pocket, grunted — 

" Umph ! purse upstairs." Felt again. " No." 
Groped inside the breast of his waistcoat. " Another 
time — not forget." 

The man muttered something not complimentary, 
and turned to go through the yard. 

11 Must lock door," said Mr. Obadiah, and went after 
him. 

Now was Judith's last chance. She took it at once; 
the moment the backs of the two men were turned she 
darted into the passage and stood back against the 
door out of the flare of the candle. 

The passage was a sort of hall, with slated floor, the 



84 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

walls plastered, and whitewashed at one time, but the 
wash and plaster had been picked off to about five feet 
from the floor wherever not strongly adhesive, giving a 
diseased and sore look to the wall. The slates of the 
floor were broken and dirty. 

Judith looked along the hall for a place to which she 
could retreat on the return of the proprietor of the 
establishment. She had entered that portion of the 
building tenanted by the unhappy patients. The 
meanness of the passage, the picked walls, the situation 
on one side of the comfortable residence, showed her 
this. A door there was on the right hand, ajar, that led 
into the private dwelling-house, but into that Judith 
did not care to enter. One further down on the left 
probably gave access to some apartment devoted 
to the " pupils," as Mrs. Scantlebray called the 
patients. 

There was, however, another door that was open, 
and from it descended a flight of brick steps to what 
Judith conjectured to be the cellars. At the bottom a 
second candle, in a tin candlestick, was guttering and 
flickering in the draught that blew in at the yard door, 
and descended to this underground story. It was 



FOUND. 85 

obvious to the girl that Mr. Scantlebray was about to 
carry or roll the kegs he had just acquired down the 
brick steps to his cellar. For that purpose he had set 
a candle there. It would not, therefore, do for her in 
her attempt to avoid him to descend to this lower 
region. She must pass the door that gave access to 
the cellars, a door usually locked, as she judged, for a 
large iron key stood in the lock, and enter the room the 
door of which opened further down the passage. 

She was drawing her skirts together so as to slip past 
the candle on the passage floor for this purpose, when 
her heart stood still as though she had received a blow 
on it. She heard, proceeding from somewhere beneath, 
down those steps, a moan, then a feeble cry of, " Ju ! 
where are you ? Ju ! Ju ! Ju ! " 

She all but cried out herself. A gasp of pain and 
horror did escape her, and then, without a thought of 
how she could conceal herself, how avoid Scantlebray, 
she ran down the steps to the cellars. 

On reaching the bottom she found that there were 
four doors, two of which had square holes cut in them, 
but with iron bars before these openings. The door of 
one of the others, one on the left, was open, and she 



86 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

could see casks and bottles. It was a wine and spirit 
cellar, and the smell of wine issued from it. 

She stood panting, frightened, fearing what she might 
discover, doubting whether she had heard her brother's 
voice, or whether she was a prey to fancy. 

Then again she heard a cry and a moan. It issued 
from the nearest cell on her right hand. 

" Jamie ! my Jamie ! " she cried. 

"Ju! Ju!" 

The door was hasped, with a crook let into a staple, 
so that it might, if necessary, be padlocked. But now 
it was simply shut, and a wooden peg was thrust through 
the eye of the crook. 

She caught up the candle, and with trembling hand 
endeavoured to unfasten the door ; but so agitated 
was she, so blinded with horror, that she could not do 
so till she had put down the candle again. Then she 
forced the peg from its place and raised the crook. She 
stooped and took up the candle once more, and then, 
with a short breath and a contraction of the breast, 
threw open the door, stepped in, and held up the light* 

The candle flame irradiated what was but a cellar 
compartment, vaulted with brick, once whitewashed, 



FOUXD. 87 

now dirty with cobwebs and accumulated dust and 
damp-stains. It had a stone shelf on one side, on 
which lay a broken plate and some scraps of food. 
Against the further wall was a low truckle bed with a 
mattress on it and some rags of blanket. Huddled on 
this lay Jamie, his eyes dilated with terror, and yet red 
with weeping ; all his clothes had been removed, except 
his shirt ; his long red-gold hair had lost its gloss 
and beaut)-, it was wet with sweat and knotted ; the 
boy's face was ghastly in the flickering light. 

Judith dropped the candle on the floor, and rushed 
with outstretched arms, and a cry, piercing, but beaten 
back on her by the walls and vault of the cell, and 
caught the frightened boy to her heart. 

" Jamie ; oh, my Jamie ! — my Jamie ! " 

She swayed herself crying on the bed, holding him to 
her, with no thought, her whole being absorbed in a 
spasm of intensest, most harrowing pain. 

The tallow candle was on the slate floor, fallen, melt- 
ing, spluttering, flaring. And in the door, holding the 
brandy keg upon his shoulder, stood, with open eyes 
and open mouth, Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

ESCAPED. 

Mr. Obadiah stood open-mouthed, staring at the twins 
clasped in each other's arms, unable at first to under- 
stand what he saw. Then a suspicion entered his dull 
brain, he uttered a growl, put down the keg, his heavy 
brows contracted, he shut his mouth, drawing in the 
lips so that they disappeared, and he clenched his 
hands. 

" Wait — I'll beat you ! " he said. 

The upset candle was on the floor, now half molten 
into a pond of tallow, burning with a lambent blue 
flicker, trembling on extinction, then shooting up in a 
yellow flare. 

In that uncertain, changeful, upward light the face of 
the man looked threatening, remorseless, so that Judith, 



ESCAPED. 89 

in a paroxysm of fear for her brother and herself, dropped 
on her knee, and caught at the tin candlestick as the 
only weapon of defence accessible. It was hot, and 
burnt her fingers, but she did not let go ; and as she 
stood up, the dissolved candle fell from it among some 
straw that littered the pavement. This at once kindled 
and blazed up into golden flame. 

For a moment the cell was full of light. Mr. Obadiah 
immediately saw the danger. His casks of brandy were 
hard by, the fume of alcohol was in the air ; if the fire 
spread and caught his stores, a volume of flame would 
sweep up the cellar stairs and set his house on fire. 
He hastily sprang in, and danced about the cell, stamp- 
ing furiously at the ignited whisps. Judith, who saw 
him rush forward, thought he was about to strike her 
or Jamie, and raised the tin candlestick in self-defence ; 
but when she saw him engaged in trampling out the 
fire, tearing at the bed to drag away the blankets with 
which to smother the embers, she drew Jamie aside be- 
yond his reach, sidled, with him clinging to her, along 
the wall, and, by a sudden spring, reached the passage, 
slammed the door, fastened the hasp, and had the 
gaoler secured in his own gaol. 



9° IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

For a moment Mr. Scantlebray was unaware that he 
was a prisoner, so busily engaged was he in trampling 
out the fire, but the moment he did realize the fact he 
flung himself with all his force against the door. 

"Let me out! " 

Judith looked round her. There was now no light in 
the cellar but the feeble glimmer that descended the 
stairs from the candle above. The flame of that was 
now burning steadily, for the door opening into the 
yard had been shut, and the draught was excluded. 

In dragging Jamie along with her Judith had drawn 
forth a scanty blanket that was about his shoulders ;, 
she wrapped it round the boy. 

" Let me out ! " roared Scantlebray. " Don't under- 
stand. Fun — rolicking fun ! " 

Judith paid no attention to his bellow. She was con- 
cerned only to escape with Jamie. She was well aware 
that her only chance was by retaining Mr. Obadiah 
where he was. 

" Let me out ! " again shouted the prisoner, and he 
threw himself furiously against the door. But though 
it jarred on its hinges and made the hasp leap, he could 
not break it down. Nevertheless, so big and strong 



ESCAPED. 93 

was the man, that it was by no means improbable that 
his repeated efforts might start a staple, or snap a hinge 
band, and he and the door might come together crash- 
ing down into the passage between the cells. 

Judith drew Jamie up the steps, and, on reaching the 
top, shut the cellar door. Below, Mr. Scantlebray 
roared, swore, shouted, and beat against the door ; but 
now his voice and the sound of his blows were muffled,, 
and would almost certainly be inaudible in the dwelling- 
house. 

No wonder that Judith had not heard the cries of her 
brother. It had never occurred to her that the hapless 
victims of the keeper of the asylum might be chastised,, 
imprisoned, variously maltreated in regions under- 
ground, whence no sounds of distress might reach the 
street, and apprise the passers-by that all was not 
laughter within. 

Standing in the passage or hall above, Judith said — - 
" Oh, Jamie ! where are your clothes ? " 
The boy looked into her face with a vacant and dis- 
tressed expression. He could not answer, he did not 
even understand her question, so stupefied was he by 
his terrors and the treatment he had undergone. 



92 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

Judith took the candle from the floor and searched 
"the hall. Nothing was there save Mr. Scantlebray's 
coat, which he had removed and cast across one of the 
kegs when he prepared to convey them down to his 
cellar. Should she take that ? She shook her head at 
the thought. She would not have it said that she had 
taken anything out of the house, except only — as that 
was an extreme necessity — the blanket wrapped about 
Jamie. She looked into the room that opened beyond 
the cellar door. It was a great bare apartment, con- 
taining nothing save a table and some forms. 

"Jamie," she said, "we must get away from this 
place as we are. There is no help for it. Do you not 
know where your clothes were put ? " 

He shook his head. He clung to her with both arms, 
as though afraid if he held by but one that she would 
slip away and vanish ; he was as one drowning, clinging 
to the only support that sustained him from sinking. 

"Come, Jamie; it cannot be otherwise!" she set 
•down the candle, opened the door into the yard, and 
issued forth into the night, along with the boy. The 
-clouds had broken, and poured down their deluge of 
warm thunder-rain. In the dark Judith was unable to 



ESCAPED. 95 

find her direction at once, she reached the boundary 
wall where was the door. 

Jamie uttered a cry of pain, 

"What is it, dear? " 

" The stones cut my feet." 

She felt along the wall with one hand till she touched 
the jamb, then pressed against the door itself. It was 
shut. She groped for the lock. No key was in it. She 
could as little escape from that enclosure as she could 
enter into it from without. The door was very solid, 
and the lock big and secure. What was to be done ? 
Judith considered for a moment, standing in the pour- 
ing rain, through which the lightning flashed obscurely, 
illuminating nothing. It seemed to her that there was 
but one course open to her — to return and obtain the 
key from Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray. But it would be 
no easy matter to induce him to surrender it. 

" Jamie, will you remain at the door ? Hereunder 
the wall is some shelter. I must go back." 

But the boy was frightened at the prospect of being 
deserted. 

" Then, Jamie, will you come back with me to the 
house ? " 



94 /A 7 THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

No, he would not do that. 

" I must go for the key, dearest," she said, coaxingly. 
' ; I cannot open the door so that we can escape unless 
I have the key. Will you do something for Ju ? Sit 
here on the step, where you are somewhat screened 
from the rain, and sing to me something — one of our 
old songs — 'A jolly goshawk, and his wings were 
grey ' ? Sing that, that I may hear your voice and 
find my way back to you. Oh — and here, Jamie, your 
feet are just the size of mine, and so you shall pull on 
my shoes. Then you will be able to run alongside of 
me and not hurt your soles." 

With a little persuasion she induced him to do as she 
asked. She took off her own shoes and gave them to 
him, then went across the yard to where was the house. 
She discovered the door by a little streak of light below 
it and above the well-trampled and deeply worn thres- 
hold stone. She opened the door, took up the candle, 
and again descended the steps to the cellar floor. On 
reaching the bottom she held up the light, and saw that 
the door was still sound ; at the square, barred opening 
was the red face of Mr. Scantlebray. 
" Let me out ! " he roared. 



ESCAPED. 95 

<( Give me the key of the garden door." 

" Will you let me out if I do?" 

" No ; but this I promise : as soon as I have escaped 
from your premises I will knock and ring at your front 
door till I have roused the house, and then you will be 
found and released. By that time we shall have got 
well away." 

" I will not give you the key." 

"Then here you remain," said Judith, and began to 
re-ascend, the steps. It had occurred to her, suddenly, 
that very possibly the key she desired might be in the 
pocket of the coat Mr. Scantlebray had cast off before 
descending to the cellar. She would hold no further 
communication with him till she had ascertained this. 
He yelled after her — 

" Let me out, and you shall have the key." 

But she paid no attention to his promise. On reach- 
ing the top of the stairs she again shut the door, and 
took up his coat. She searched the pockets. No key 
was in them. She must go to him once more. 

He began to shout as he saw the flicker of the candle 
approach, " Here is the key ; take it, and do as you said." 

His hand, a great coarse hand, was thrust through 



96 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

the opening in the door, and in it was the key she 
required. 

" Very well," said she, " I will do as I undertook." 

She put her hand, the right hand, up to receive the 
key ; in her left was the candlestick. Suddenly he let 
go the key, that clinked down on the floor outside, and 
made a clutch at her hand and caught her by the wrist. 
She grasped the bar in the little window, or he would 1 
have drawn her hand in, dragged her by the arm up 
against the door and broken her bones. He now held 
her wrist, and with his strong hand strove to wrench 
her fingers from their clutch. 

" Unhasp the door ! " he howled at her. 

She did not answer otherwise than with a cry of pain, as 
he worked with his hand at her wrist, and verily it seemed 
as though the fragile bones must snap under his grasp. 

" Unhasp the door ! " he roared again. 

With his great fingers and thick nails he began to- 
thrust at and ploughed her knuckles. He had her by 
the wrist with one hand, and he was striving to loosen 
her hold of the bar with the other. 

" Unhasp the door ! " he yelled a third time, " or I'll 
break every bone in your fingers ! " and he brought his 



ESCAPED. 97 

fist down on the side of the door to show how he would 
pound them by a blow. If he did not do this at once it 
was because he dreaded by too heavy a blow to strike 
the bar, and wound himself whilst crushing her hand. 

She could not hold the iron stancheon for more than 
another instant, and when her strength failed, then he 
would drag her arm in, as a lion in its cage, when it has 
laid hold of the incautious visitor, tears him to itself 
through the bars. 

Then she brought the candle flame up against his 
hand that grasped her wrist, and it played round it. 
He uttered a scream of pain and let go for one moment ; 
but that moment sufficed. She was free. The key 
was on the floor, she stooped to pick it up, but her 
fingers were as though paralysed, she was forced to 
take it with the left hand, and leave the candle on the 
floor. Then, holding the key, she ran up the steps, ran 
out into the yard, and heard her brother waiting. " Ju, 
I want you ! Where are you, Ju ? " Guided by his 
cries she reached the door. The key she put into the 
lock, and with a little effort turned it. The door opened. 
She and Jamie were free. 

The door shut behind them. They were in the dark 

VOL. II. 8 



98 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

lane under a pouring rain. But Judith thought nothing 
of the darkness, nothing of the rain. She threw her 
arms round her brother, put her wet cheek against his, 
and burst into tears. 

" My Jamie ! Oh, my Jamie ! " 

But the deliverance of her brother was not complete, 
she must bring him back to Polzeath. She could allow 
herself but a moment for the relief of her heart, and 
then she caught him to her side, and pushed on with 
him along the lane till they entered the street. Here 
she stood for a moment in uncertainty. Was she bound 
to fulfil her engagement to Mr. Obadiah ? She had ob- 
tained the key, but he had behaved to her with treachery. 
He had not intended the key to be other than a bait to 
draw her within his clutch, that he might torture her 
into opening the door of his cell. Nevertheless, she 
had the key, and Judith was too honourable to take 
advantage of him. With Jamie still clinging to her, she 
went up the pair of steps to the front door, rang the night 
bell, and knocked long and loud. Then, all at once, her 
strength that had lasted gave way, and she sank on the 
doorstep, without indeed losing consciousness, but 
losing in one instant all power of doing or thinking, 
or striving any more for Jamie or for herself. 



CHAPTER XXVII 



AT HER FEET. 



A window overhead was thrown open, and a voice, that 
Judith recognized as that of Mrs. Obadiah Scantlebray, 
-called : " Who is there ? What is wanted ? " 

The girl could not answer. The power to speak was 
gone from her. It was as though all her faculties, 
exerted to the full, had at once given way. She could 
not rise from the step on which she had sunk : the will 
to make the effort was gone. Her head had fallen 
against the jamb of the door, and the knot of the ker- 
chief was between her head and the wood, and it hurt 
her ; but even the will to lift her hands and shift the 
bandage one inch aside was not present. 

The mill-wheel revolves briskly, throwing the foam- 
ing water out of its buckets with a lively rattle, then 
its movement slackens, it strains, the buckets fill and 



loo IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

over-spill, but the wheel seems to be reduced to 
stationariness. That stress-point is but for a mo- 
ment, then the weight of the water overbalances the 
strain, and whirr ! round plunges the wheel, and the 
bright, foaming water is whisked about, and the buckets- 
disgorge their contents. 

It is the same with the wheel of human life. It has- 
its periods of rapid and glad revolution, and also its 
moments of supreme tension, when it is all but over- 
strung, when its movement is hardly perceptible. The 
strain put on Judith's faculties had been excessive, and 
now those faculties failed her, failed her absolutely.. 
The prostration might not last long— it might last for 
ever. It is so sometimes when there has been over- 
exertion : thought stops, will ceases to act, sensation, 
dies into numbness, the heart beats slow — slower — then 
perhaps stops finally. 

It was not quite come to that with Judith. She 
knew that she had rushed into danger again, the very 
danger from which she had just escaped ; she knew it,, 
but she was incapable of acting on the knowledge. 

" Who is below ? " was again called from an upper 
window. 



AT HER FEET. 101 

Judith, with open eyes, heard that the rain was still 
falling heavily, heard the shoot of water from the roof 
plash down into the runnel of the street, felt the heavy 
•drops come down on her from the architrave over the 
door, and she saw something in the road-way — shadows 
stealing along, the same as she had seen before, but 
passing in a reversed direction. These were again men 
and beasts, but their feet and hoofs were no longer 
inaudible : they trod in the puddles and splashed and 
squelched the water and mud about at each step. The 
smugglers had delivered the supplies agreed on at the 
houses of those who dealt with them, and were now 
returning, the asses no longer laden. 

And Judith heard the door behind her unbarred and 
unchained and unlocked. Then it was opened, and a 
ray of light was cast into the street, turning the falling 
rain-drops into drops of liquid gold, and revealing, 
ghostly, a passing ass and its driver. 

" Who is there ? Is any one there ? " 

Then the blaze of light was turned on Judith, and 
her eyes shut with a spasm of pain. 

In the doorway stood Mrs. Scantlebray, half gar- 
mented, that is to say, with a gown on, the folds of 



102 JA T THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

which fell in very straight lines from her waist to her 
feet, and with a night-cap on her head, and her curls 
in papers. She held a lamp in her hand, and this was 
now directed upon the girl lying, or half sitting, in the 
doorway, her bandaged head leaning against the jamb, 
one hand in her lap, the fingers open, the other fallen at 
her side, hanging down the steps, the fingers in the 
running current of the gutter, in which also was one 
shoeless foot. 

" Why — goodness ! Mercy on us ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
Scantlebray, inconsiderately thrusting the lamp into 
the girl's face and contracting eyes. " It can never 
be — yet — surely it is " 

"Judith!" exclaimed a deep voice, the sound of 
which sent a sudden flutter through the girl's nerves 
and pulses. "Judith!" and from out the darkness 
and falling rain plunged a man in full mantle wrapped 
about him and overhanging broad-brimmed hat. With- 
out a word of excuse he snatched the light from Mrs. 
Scantlebray and raised it above Judith's head. 

" Merciful powers ! " he cried, " what is the meaning 
of this ? What has happened ? There is blood here — 
blood ! Judith — speak ! For Heaven's sake, speak ! " 



AT HER FEET. 103 

The light fell on his face, his glittering eyes, and 
she slightly turned her head and looked at him. She 
opened her mouth to speak, but could form no words; 
but the appeal in those dim eyes went to his heart- 
He thrust the lamp roughly back into Mrs. Scantlebray's 
hand, knelt on the steps, passed one arm under the girl, 
the other about her waist, lifted and carried her without 
a word inside the house. There was a leather covered 
ottoman in the hall, and he laid her on that, hastily 
throwing off his cloak, folding it, and placing it as 
a pillow beneath her head. 

Then, on one knee at her side, he drew a flask from 
his breast pocket, and poured some drops of spirit down 
her throat. The strength of the brandy made her 
catch her breath, and brought a flash of red to her 
cheek. It had served its purpose, helped the wheel of 
life to turn beyond the stress-point at which it threatened 
to stay wholly. She moved her head, and looked eagerly 
about her for Jamie. He was not there. She drew a 
long breath, a sigh of relief. 

"Are you better?" he asked, stooping over her: 
and she could read the intensity of his anxiety in his 
face. She tried to smile a reply, but the muscles of 
her lips were too stiff for more than a flutter. 



104 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Run ! " ordered Captain Coppinger, standing up. 
" You, woman ! Are you a fool ? Where is your hus- 
band ? He is a doctor ; fetch him. The girl might die." 

" He — Captain, he is engaged, I believe, taking in his 
stores." 

" Fetch him ! Leave the lamp here." 

Mrs. Scantlebray groped about for a candle, and 
having found one proceeded to light it. 

" I'm really shocked to appear before you, Captain, in 
this state of undress." 

" Fetch your husband ! " said Coppinger, impatiently. 

Then she withdrew. 

The draught of spirits had acted on Judith, and had 
revived her. Her breath came more evenly, her heart 
beat regularly, and the blood began to circulate again. 
As her bodily powers returned, her mind began to work 
once more, and again, anxiously, she looked about her. 

" What is it you want ? " asked Captain Cruel. 

" Where is Jamie ? " 

He muttered a low oath. Always Jamie. She could 
think of no one but that silly boy. 

Then suddenly she realized her position — in Scantle- 
bray's house, and the wife was on the way to the cellars, 



AT HER FEET. 105 

would find him, release him ; and though she knew that 
Coppinger would not suffer Obadiah to injure her, she 
feared, in her present weakness, a violent scene. She 
sat up, dropped her feet on the floor, and stretched both 
her hands to the smuggler. 

" Oh, take me — take me from this place ! " 

''No, Judith," he answered; "you must have the 
doctor to see you — after that " 

" No ! No ! take me before he comes. lie will kill 
me!" 

Coppinger laughed. He would like to see the man 
who would dare to lay a finger on Judith whilst he stood 
by. 

Now they heard a noise from the wing of the house 
occupied by the patients, and that communicated with 
the dwelling by a door which Mrs. Scantlebray had left 
ajar. There were exclamations, oaths, a loud, angry 
voice, and the shrill tones of the woman mingled with 
the bass notes of her husband. The colour that had 
risen to the girl's cheeks left them, she put her hands 
on Coppinger's breast, and looking him entreatingly in 
the eyes, said — 

" I pray you ! I pray you ! " 



io6 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

He snatched her up in his arms, drew her close to 
him, went to the door, cast it open with his foot, and 
bore her out into the rain. There stood his mare,. 
Black Bess, with a lad holding him. 

" Judith, can you ride ? " 

He lifted her into the saddle. 

"Boy," said he, "lead on gently. I will stay her 
lest she fall." 

Then they moved away, and saw through the sheet 
of falling rain the lighted door, and Scantlebray in it, in 
his shirt-sleeves, shaking his fists, and his wife behind 
him endeavouring to draw him back by the buckle and 
strap of his waistcoat. 

" Oh, where is Jamie ? I wonder where Jamie is ? " 
said Judith, looking round her in the dark; but she 
could see no signs of her brother. 

There were straggling houses for half a mile; a little 
gap of garden, or paddock; then a cottage; then a cluster 
of trees and an ale-house ; then hedges, and no more 
houses. A cooler wind was blowing, dispelling the 
close, warm atmosphere, and the rain fell less heavily.. 
There was a faint light among the clouds, like a 
watering of satin. It showed that the storm was 



AT HER FEET. 107 

passing away. The lightning flashes were, moreover, 
at longer intervals, fainter, and the thunder rumbled 
distantly. With the fresher air, some strength and 
life came back to Judith. The wheel, though on the 
turn, was not yet revolving rapidly. 

Coppinger walked by the horse ; he had his arm 
up, holding Judith, for he feared lest, in her weak- 
ness, she might fall ; and, indeed, by her weight upon 
his hand, he was aware that her power to sustain 
herself unassisted was not come. He' looked up at 
her ; he could hardly fail to do so, standing, striding 
so close to her, her wet garments brushing his face; 
but he could not see her, or he saw her indistinctly. He 
had thrust her little foot into the leather of his stirrup, 
as the strap was too long for her to use the steel, and 
he did not tarry to shorten it. 

Coppinger was much puzzled to learn how Judith 
had come at such an hour to the door of Mr. Obadiah 
Scantlebray, shoeless, and with wounded head ; but 
he asked no questions. He was aware that she was- 
not in condition to answer them. He held her up 
with his right hand in the saddle, and with his left he 
held her foot in the leather. Were she to fall, she 



io8 JN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

might drag by the foot, and he must be on his guard 
against that. Pacing in the darkness, holding her, 
his heart beat, and his thoughts tossed and boiled 
within him. This girl — so feeble, so childish — he was 
coming across incessantly, thrown in her way, to help 
her, and he was bound to her by ties invisible, im- 
palpable, and yet of such strength that he could not 
break through them and free himself. 

He was a man of indomitable will, of iron strength, 
staying up this girl, who had flickered out of un- 
consciousness, and might slide back into it again at 
any moment, and yet he felt — he knew — that he was 
powerless before her — that if she said to him, " Lie 
•down, that I may trample on you," he would throw 
himself in the foul road without a word, to be trodden 
under by those shoeless feet. There was but one 
command she could lay on him that he would not 
perform, and that was, " Let me go by myself! Never 
■come near me ! " That he could not obey. The 
rugged moon revolves about the earth. Would the 
moon fly away into space were the terrestrial orb to 
•bid it cease to be a satellite? And if it did, whither 
would it go ? Into far-off space, into outer darkness 



AT HER FEET. 109- 

and deathly cold, to split and shiver into fragments in 
the inconceivable frost in the abyss of blackness. 
And Judith threw a sort of light and heat over this 
fierce, undisciplined man that trembled in his veins 
and bathed his heart, and was to him a spring of 
beauty, a summer of light. Could he leave her ? To 
leave her would be to be lost to everything that was 
beginning to transform his existence. The thought 
came over him now as he walked along in silence — that 
she might bid him let go, and he felt that he could not 
obey. He must hold her; he must hold her not from 
him on the saddle, not as merely staying her up, but to 
himself, to his heart, as his own, his own for ever. 

Suddenly, an exclamation from Judith — " Jamie I 
Jamie ! " Something was visible in the darkness, 
something whitish, in the hedge. In another moment 
it came bounding up. 

" Ju ! oh, Ju ! I ran away." 

" You did well," she said. " Now I am happy. You 
are saved." 

Coppinger looked impatiently round, and saw by the 
feeble light that the boy had come close to him, and 
that he was wrapped in a blanket. 



no TN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" He has nothing on him," said Judith ; "oh, poor 
Jamie ! " 

She had revived; she was almost herself again. 
She held herself more firmly in the saddle, and did 
not lean so heavily on Coppinger's hand. 

Coppinger was vexed at the appearance of the boy 
Jamie. He would fain had paced along in silence by 
the side of Judith. If she could not speak, it mattered 
not so long as he held her. Now that this fool should 
spring out of the darkness and join company with him 
and her, and at once awake her interest and loosen her 
tongue, irritated him. But, as she was able to speak, 
he would address her, and not allow her to talk over 
his head with Jamie. 

" How have you been hurt?'' he asked. "Why 
have you tied that bandage about your head ? " 

" I have been cut by a stone." 

" How came that ? " 

" A drunken man threw it at me." 

" What was his name ? " 

" I do not know." 

" That is well for him." Then, after a short pause, 
he asked further, " And your unshod feet ? " 



AT HER FEET. in 

" Oh ! I gave my shoes to Jamie." 

Coppinger turned sharply round on the boy. "Take 
off those shoes instantly, and give them back to your 
sister." 

" Xo — indeed, no ! " said Judith ; " he is running, and 
will cut his poor feet — and I, through your kindness, 
am riding." 

Coppinger did not insist. He askcdj " But how 
comes this boy to be without clothes ? " 

" Because I rescued him, as he was, from the 
asylum." 

" You ? Is that why you are out at night ? " 

" Yes ; I knew he had been taken by the two Mr. 
Scantlebrays to Wadebridge, and I could not rest. I 
felt sure he was miserable, and was crying for me." 

" So — in the night you went to him ? " 

"Yes." 

" But how did you get him his freedom ? " 

41 I found him locked in the black hole, in the cellar." 

"And did Scantlebray look on passively whilst you 
released him ? " 

" Oh, no ; I let Jamie out, and locked Mr. Scantle- 
bray in, in his place." 



ii2 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" You — Scantlebray in the black hole ? " 

"Yes." 

Then Coppinger laughed, laughed long and bois- 
terously. His hand that held Judith's foot and the 
stirrup-leather shook with his laughter. 

" By Heaven ! you are wonderful — very wonderful. 
Any one who opposes you is ill-treated, knocked down 
and broken, or locked in a black hole in the dead of 
night." 

Judith, in spite of her exhaustion, was obliged to 
smile. 

" You see, I must do what I can for Jamie." 

" Always — Jamie." 

"Yes, Captain Coppinger, always Jamie. He is 
helpless and must be thought for. I am mother, 
nurse, sister to him." 

" His Providence," sneered Coppinger. 

"The means under Providence of preserving him,"' 
said Judith. 

" And me — would you do aught for me ? " 

" Did I not go down the cliffs for you ? " asked the 
girl. 

" Heaven forgive me that I forgot that for one 



AT HER FEET. 113 

moment,' 1 he answered, with vehemence. "Happy — ■ 
happy — happiest of any in this vile world is the man 
for whom you think, and scheme, and care, and dare — 
as you do for Jamie." 

"There is none such," said Judith. 

" No — I know that," he answered, gloomily, and 
strode forward with his head down. 

Ten minutes had elapsed in silence, and Polzeath 
was approached. Then suddenly Coppinger let go his 
hold of Judith, caught the rein of Black Bess, and 
arrested her. Standing beside Judith, he said in a 
peevish, low tone, " I touched your hand, and said I 
was subject to a queen." He bent, took her foot, and 
kissed it. " You repulsed me as subject ; you are my 
mistress — accept me as your slave." 



VOL 11 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 



AN EXAMINATION. 



Some days had elapsed. Judith had not suffered from 
her second night expedition as she had from the first ; 
but the intellectual abilities of Jamie had deteriorated. 
The fright he had undergone had shaken his nerves, 
and had made him more restless, timid, and helpless 
than heretofore, exacting more of Judith's attention, and 
more trying her endurance. But she trusted that these 
ill effects would pass away in time. From his rambling 
talk she had been able to gather some particulars 
which to a degree modified her opinion relative to the 
behaviour of Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray. It appeared 
from the boy's own account that he had been very 
troublesome. After he had been taken into the wing 
of the establishment that was occupied by the imbecile, 



AN EX AM IN A TION. 1 1 5 

his alarm and bewilderment had grown. He had begun 
to cry and to clamour for his release, or for the 
presence of his sister. As night came on, paroxysms 
of impotent rage had alternated with fits of whining. 
The appearance of his companions in confinement, 
some of them complete idiots, with half-human 
.gestures and faces, had enhanced his terrors. He 
would eat no supper, and when put to bed in the 
■common dormitory had thrown off his clothes, torn 
his sheets, and refused to lie down — had sat up and 
screamed at the top of his voice. Nothing that 
could be done, no representations, would pacify him. 
He prevented his fellow inmates of the asylum from 
•sleeping, and he made it not at all improbable that 
his cries would be overheard by passers-by in the 
street, or those occupying neighbouring houses, and 
thus give rise to unpleasant surmises, and perhaps 
inquiry. Finally, Scantlebray had removed the boy to 
the place of punishment — the black hole — a compart- 
ment of the cellars, there to keep him till his lungs 
were exhausted, or his reason had gained the upper hand. 
And Judith supposed, with some justice, that Scantle- 
bray had done this only, or chiefly, because he himself 



n6 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

would be up and about the cellars, engaged in housing" 
his supplies of brandy, and that he had no intention of 
locking the unhappy boy up for the entire night in 
solitude in the cellars. He had not left him in 
complete darkness, for a candle had been placed on the 
ground outside the black-hole door. 

As Judith saw the matter now, it seemed to her that 
though Scantlebray had acted with harshness and lack 
of judgment, there was some palliation for his conduct. 
That Jamie could be most exasperating, that she knew 
full well by experience. When he went into one of 
his fits of temper and crying, it took many hours and! 
much patience to pacify him. She had now and again 
spent long time and exhausted her efforts in striving 
to bring him to a subdued frame of mind on occasions 
when the most irrational and trifling matters had 
angered him. Nothing answered with him then, save- 
infinite forbearance and exuberant love. On this occa- 
sion there was good excuse for Jamie's fit : he had 
been frightened, and frightened out of his few wits- 
As Judith said to herself, had she been treated in 
the same manner — spirited off, without preparation, to a 
strange house, confined among afflicted beings, deprived 



AN EXAMINATION. \ 17 

of every familiar companion — she would have been filled 
with terror, and reasonably so. She would not have 
exhibited it, however, in the same manner as Jamie. 

Scantlebray had not acted with gentleness ; but he 
had not, on the other hand, exhibited wanton cruelty. 
That he was a man of coarse nature, likely on 
provocation to break through the superficial veneer of 
amiability, she concluded from her own experience, 
and she did not doubt that those of the unfortunate 
inmates of the asylum who overtaxed his forbear- 
ance met with very rough handling. But that he 
took a malignant pleasure in harassing and torturing 
them, that she did not believe. 

On the day following the escape from the asylum, 
Judith sent Mr. Menaida to Wadebridge with the 
blanket that had been carried off round the shoulders 
of her brother, and with a request to have Jamie's 
clothes surrendered. Uncle Zachie returned with the 
garments, that were not refused him ; and Judith and 
her brother settled down into the routine of employ- 
ment and amusement as before. The lad assisted Mr. 
Menaida with his bird skins, talking a little more 
childishly than before, and sticking less assiduously to 



Ii8 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

his task ; and Judith did her needlework, and occa- 
sionally played on the piano the pieces of music at 
which Uncle Zachie had hammered ineffectually for 
many years, and she played them to the old man's, 
satisfaction. 

At last the girl ventured to induce Jamie to re- 
commence his lessons. He resisted at first, and when 
she did, on a rainy da)', persuade him to set to his. 
school tasks, she was careful not to hold him to them 
for more than a few minutes, and to select those lessons, 
which made him least impatient. 

There was a Goldsmith's Geography, illustrated with 
copper-plates of Indians attacking Captain Cook, the 
Geysers, Esquimaux fisher}', &c, that always amused 
the boy. Accordingly more geography was done during; 
these first days of resumption of work than history,, 
arithmetic, or reading. Latin had not yet been at- 
tempted, as that was Jamie's particular aversion. 
However, the Eton Latin Grammar was produced, 
and placed on the table, to familiarise his mind with 
the idea that it had to be tackled some day. 

Judith had one morning spread the table with lesson- 
books, with slate and writing-copies, when she was 



AN EX AMI N A TION. 1 19 

surprised at the entry of four gentlemen, two of whom 
she recognized immediately as the brothers Scantlebray. 
The other two she did not know. One was thin-faced, 
with red hair, a high forehead extending to the crown, 
with the hair drawn over it and well pomatumed to 
keep it in place and conceal the baldness ; the other 
a short man, in knee-breeches and top-boots, with a 
red face, and with breath that perfumed the whole 
room with spirits. Mr. Scantlebray senior came up 
with both hands extended. 

" This is splendid ! How are you ? Never more 
charmed in my life — and ready to impart knowledge as 
the sun diffuses light. Obadiah, old man, look at your 
pupil ; better already for having passed through your 
hands. I can see it at a glance ; there's a brightness, 
a je ne sais quoi about him that was not there before. 
Old man, I congratulate you. You have a gift — shake 
hands." 

The gentlemen seated themselves without invitation. 
Surprise and alarm made Judith forget her usual 
courtesy. She feared lest the sight of his gaoler 
might excite Jamie. But it was not so. Whether in 
his confused mind he did not associate Mr. Obadiah 



120 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

with his troubles on that night of distress, or whether 
his attention was distracted by the sight of so many, 
was doubtful, but Jamie did not seem to be discon- 
certed — rather, on the contrary, glad of some excuse 
for escape from lessons. 

" We are come," said the red-headed man, " at 
Mrs. Tre visa's desire — but really, Mr. Scantlebray, 
for shame of you. Where are your manners ? Intro- 
duce me." 

*' Mr. Vokes," said Scantlebray, " and the accom- 
plished and charming Miss Judith Trevisa, orphing." 

" And now, dear young lady," said the red-headed 
man. "Now, positively, it is my turn. My friend, 
Mr. Jukes. Jukes, man ! Miss Judith Trevisa." 

Then Mr. Vokes coughed into his thin, white hand, 
and said, " We are come, naturally — and I am sure 
you- wish what Mrs. Trevisa wishes — to just look at 
your brother, and give an opinion on his health." 

" Oh, he is quite well," said Judith. 

" Ah ! you think so, naturally; but we would decide 
for ourselves, dearest young lady, though not for the 
world would we willingly differ from you. But, you 
know, these are questions on which varieties of opinion 



AN EXAMINA TION. 121 

are allowable, and yet do not disturb the most heartfelt 
friendship. It is so, is it not, Jukes?" 

The rubicund man in knee-breeches nodded. 

"Shall I begin, Jukes? Why, my fine little man! 
what an array of books ! What scholarship ! And 
at your age, too — astounding ! What age did you say 
you were ? " This to Jamie in an insinuating tone. 
Jumie stared, looked appealingly to Judith, and said 
nothing. 

" W T e are the same age ; we are twins," said Judith. 

"Ah ! it is not the right thing to appear anxious to 
know a lady's age. We will put it another way, eh, 
Jukes?" 

The red-faced man leaned his hands on his stick, his 
chin on his hands, and winked, as in that position he 
could not nod. 

" Now, my fine little man, when is your birthday? 
when you have your cake — raisin cake, eh ? " 

Jamie looked questioningly at his sister. 

" Ah ! come, not the da) 7 of the month, but the 
month, eh ? " 

Jamie could not answer. 

" Come now," said the red-headed, long man, stretch- 



J22 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

ing his legs before him, legs vested in white trousers,, 
strapped down tight. " Come now, my splendid speci- 
men of humanity, in which quarter of the year ? 
between sickle and scythe, eh ? " He waited, and,, 
receiving no answer, pulled out a pocket-book and 
made a note, after having first wetted the end of his 
pencil. " Don't know when he was born ! What do 
you say to that, Jukes ? Will you take your turn ? " 

The man with an inflamed face, now gradually 
becoming purple, as he leaned forward on his stick,, 
said, " Humph ! a Latin Grammar, Propria qua maribus 
— I remember it, but it was a long time ago 'I learnt 
it. Now, whipper-snapper! how do you go on? 
Propria qua maribus — go on." He waited. Jamie 

looked at him in astonishment. "Come ! Tribu- ,r 

Again he waited. " Come. Tribuuntur mascula dicas — 
go on." Again a pause. Then with an impatient 
growl, " Ut sunt Divorum, Mars, Bacchus, Apollo. This, 
will never do. Go on with the scaramouch, Vokes- 
I'll make my annotation." 

" He's too hard on my little chap, ain't he ? " asked 
the thin man in ducks. " We won't be done. We are 
not old enough." 



A N EX A MINA TION. 1 23. 

" He is but eighteen," said Judith. 

" He is but eighteen," repeated the red-headed man. 
" Of course he has not got so far as that, but musa, 
muses " 

Jamie turned sulky. 

"'Not musa, muses — and eighteen years ! Jukes, this 
is serious, Jukes, eh, Jukes ? " 

"Now look here, you fellows," said Scantlebray, 
senior, "you are too exacting. It's holiday time, ain't 
it, orphing? We won't be put upon, not we. We'll 
sport and frolic and be joyful. Look here, Scanty, old 
man, take the slate and draw a pictur' to my describing. 
Now 7 then, Jamie, look at him and hearken to me. 
He's the funniest old man that ever was, and he'll 
surprise you. Are you ready, Scanty ? " 

Mr. Obadiah drew the slate before him, and signed 
with the pencil to Jamie to observe him. The boy was 
quite ready to see him draw. 

" There was once upon a time," began Mr. Scantle- 
bray senior, "a man that lived in a round tower. 
Look at him draw it. There you are ; that is the 
tower. Go on. And in the tower was a round winder.. 
Do you see the winder, orphing ? This man every 



124 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

morning put his hand out of the winder to ascertain 
which way the wind blew. He put it out thus, and 
drew it in thus. No ! don't look at me ; look at the 
slate, and there you'll see it all- Now this man had a 
large pond, preserved full of fish." Scratch, scratch 
went the pencil on the slate. " Them's the fish," said 
Scantlebray, senior. " Now below the situation of that 
pond, in two huts, lived a pair of thieves. You see 
them poky things my brother has drawn ? Them's the 
'uts. When night set in, these wicked thieves came 
walking up to the pond — see my brother drawing their 
respective courses — and, on reaching the pond, they 
opened the sluice, and whish ! whish ! out poured the 
water." Scratch, scratch, squeak, squeak, went the 
pencil on the slate. " There now ! the naughty robbers 
went after fish and got a goose. Look ! a goo-oose." 

" Where's the goose ? " asked Jamie. 

" Where ? Before your eyes — under your nose. That 
brilliant brother of mine has drawn one. Hold the 
slate up, Scanty ? " 

" That's not a goose," said Jamie. 

" Not a goose ! You don't know what geese are." 

" Yes I do," retorted the boy, resentfully. " I 



AN EXAMINA TIOM 125 

know the wild goose and the tame one — which do 
you call that ? " 

" Oh, wild goose, of course." 

" It's not one. A goose hasn't a tail like that, nor 
such legs," said Jamie, contemptuously. 

Mr. Scantlebray senior looked at Messrs. Vokes and 
Jukes and shook his head. 

c: A bad case. Don't know a goose when he sees 
it — and he is eighteen." 

Both Vokes and Jukes made an entry in their pocket- 
books. 

" Now, Jukes," said Vokes, " will you take a turn, or 
shall I ? " 

" Oh, you, Vokes," answered Jukes ; "I haven't re- 
covered Propria qua maribus yet." 

"Very well, my interesting young friend. Suppose 
now we change the subject and try arithmetic." 

" I don't want any arithmetic," said Jamie, 
sulkily. 

" No, come now, we won't call it by that name. 
Suppose some one were to give you a shilling.' 

Jamie looked up, interested. 

"And suppose he were to say, 'There, go and buy 



126 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

sweeties with this shilling.' Tartlets at three for 
twopence, and barley-sugar at three farthings a stick, 
and " 

" I want my shilling back," said Jamie, looking 
straight into the face of Mr. Scantlebray senior. 

"And that there were burnt almonds at twopence an 
ounce " 

" I want my shilling," exclaimed the boy, angrily. 

" Your shilling, puff! puff!" said the red-headed 
man. " This is ideal. An ideal shilling and ideal jam 
tarts, almond-rock, burnt almonds, or what you like." 

" Give me back my shilling ? I won it fair," persisted 
Jamie. 

Then Judith, distressed, interfered. "Jamie, dear, 
what do you mean ? You have no shilling owing 
you." 

" I have ! I have ! " screamed the boy. " I won it 
fair of that man there, because I made a rabbit, and he 
took it from me again." 

" Hallucinations," said Jukes. 

" Quite so," said Vokes. 

" Give me my shilling ? It is a cheat ! " cried Jamie, 
now suddenly roused into one of his fits of passion. 



AN EXAMINA TION. 127 

Judith caught him by the arm, and endeavoured to 
pacify him. 

" Let go, Ju ! I will have my shilling. That man 
took it away. He is a cheat, a thief ! Give me my 
shilling?" 

" I am afraid he is excitable," said Vokes. 

" Like all irrational beings," answered Jukes. " I'll 
make a note : ' Rising out of hallucination.' " 

" I will have my shilling," persisted Jamie. "Give 
me my shilling, or I'll throw the ink at you ! " 

He caught up the ink-pot, and, before Judith had 
time to interfere, had flung it across the table, intending 
to hit Mr. Scantlebray senior ; but the pot missed him ; 
the black fluid was, however, scattered over Mr. Vokes' 
white trousers. 

" Bless my life! " exclaimed this gentleman, springing 
to his feet, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe away 
the ink, and only smearing it the more over his 
*' ducks," and discolouring as well his handkerchief. 
"" Bless my life, Jukes ! a dangerous lunatic. Note at 
once. Clearly comes within the Act — clearly." 

In a few minutes all had left, and Judith was en- 
deavouring to pacify her irritated brother. His fingers 



128 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

were blackened, and finally she persuaded him to go 
upstairs and wash his hands clear of the ink, Then 
she ran into the adjoining room to Mr. Menaida. 

" Oh ! dear Mr. Menaida," she said, " what does 
this mean ? Why have they been here ? " 

Uncle Zachie looked grave and discomposed. 

" My dear," said he, "those were doctors, and they 
have been here, sent by your aunt, to examine into 
the condition of Jamie's intellects, and to report on 
what they have observed. There was a little going 
beyond the law, perhaps, at first. That is why they 
took it so easily when you carried Jamie off. They 
knew you were with an old lawyer; they knew that 
you or I could sue for a writ of habeas corpus." 

" But do you really think that Aunt Dionysia is going 
to have Jamie sent back to that man at Wadebridge ? " 

" I am certain of it. That is why they came here 
to-day." 

" Can I not prevent it?" 

" I do not think so. If you go to law " 

" But, if they once get him, they will make an idiot 
or a madman of him." 

" Then you must see your aunt, and persuade her 
not to send him there." 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER. 

As Mr. Menaida spoke, Miss Dionysia Trevisa entered, 
stiff, hard, and when her eyes fell on Judith they 
contracted with an expression of antipathy. In the 
eyes alone was this observable, for her face was im- 
movable. 

"Auntie!" exclaimed Judith, drawing her into the 
sitting-room, and pressing her to take the armchair. 
" Oh, auntie ! I have so longed to see you. There have 
been some dreadful men here — doctors, I think — and 
they have been teazing Jamie till they had worked him 
into one of his temper fits." 

" I sent them here, and for good reasons ; Jamie is 
to go back to Wadebridge." 

" No — indeed no, auntie ; do not say that. You would 
not say it if you knew all." 

VOL. II. 10 



50 



JN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 



" I know quite enough — more than is pleasing to 
me. I have heard of your outrageous and unbecoming 
conduct. Hoity-toity ! To think that a Trevisa— but 
there, you are one only in name — should go out at 
night about the streets and lanes like a common thing. 
Bless me ! you might have knocked me down with a 
touch when I was told of it." 

" I did nothing outrageous and unbecoming, aunt. 
You may be sure of that. I am quite aware that I 
am a Trevisa, and a gentlewoman, and something 
higher than that, aunt — a Christian. My father never 
let me forget that." 

" Your conduct was — well, I will give it no ex- 
pletive." 

" Aunt, I did what was right. I was sure that 
Jamie was unhappy and wanted me. I cannot tell you 
how I knew it, but I was certain of it, and I had no 
peace till I went ; and as I found the garden door open 
I went in, and, when I went in, I found Jamie locked up 
in the cellar, and I freed him. Had you found him 
there you would have done the same." 

" I have heard all about it. I want no repetition of a 
very scandalous story. Against my will I am burdened 



ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER 131 

with an intolerable obligation to look after an idiot 
nephew, and a niece that is a self-willed and perverse 
miss." 

"Jamie is no idiot," answered Judith, firmly. 

"Jamie is what those pronounce him to be who by 
their age, their profession, and their experience are cal- 
culated to judge, better than an ignorant girl not out of 
her teens." 

"Auntie, I believe you have been misinformed. Lis- 
ten to me, and I will tell you what happened. As for 
those men " 

"Those men were doctors. Perhaps they were mis- 
informed when they went through the College of Sur- 
geons, were misinstructed by all the medical books they 
have read, were misdirected by all the study of the 
mental and bodily maladies of men they have made, in 
their professional course." 

" I wish, dear Aunt Dionysia, you would take Jamie 
to be with you a few weeks, talk to him, play with 
him, go walks with him, and you will never say that he 
is an idiot. He needs careful management, and also a 
little application " 

" Enough on that theme," interrupted Miss Trevisa ; 



132 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" I have not come here to be drawn into an argument, 
or to listen to your ideas on the condition of that un- 
happy, troublesome, that provoking boy. I wish to 
Heaven I had not the responsibility for him, that has 
been thrust on me : but as I have to exercise it, and 
there is no one to relieve me of it, I must do my best,, 
though it is a great expense to me. Seventy pounds is 
not seventy shillings, nor is it seventy pence." 

"Aunt, he is not to go back to the asylum! He 
must not go." 

"Hoity-toity! must not, indeed! You, a minx of 
eighteen, to dictate to me ! Must not, indeed ! You 
seem to think that you, and not I, are Jamie's guar- 
dian. ' 

" Papa entrusted him to me with his last words."' 

" I know nothing about last words. In his will I am? 
constituted his guardian and yours, and as such I shall 
act as my convenience — conscience, I mean — dictates." 

" But, aunt, Jamie is not to go back to Wadebridge. 
Aunt ! I entreat you ! I know what that place is. I 
have been inside it, you have not. I have seen the 
horrible black hole. You have not. And just think 
of Jamie on the very first night being locked up there." 



ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER. 133 

*' He richly deserved it, I will be bound." 

" Oh, aunt ! How could he ? How could he ? " 

" Of that Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray was the best 
judge. Why he had to be punished you do not know." 

" Indeed, I do. He cried because the place was 
strange, and he was among strange faces. Aunt, if 
30U were whipped off to Timbuctoo, and suddenly 
found yourself among savages, and in a rush apron, as 
the squaw of a black chief, or whatever they call them 
in Timbuctooland, would not you scream ? " 

"Judith," said Miss Trevisa, bridling up. "You for- 
get yourself." 

" No, aunt. I am only pleading for Jamie ; trying 
io make you feel for him when he was locked up in an 
asylum. How would you like it, aunt, if you were 
snatched away to Bartholomew Fair, and suddenly 
found yourself among tight-rope dancers, and Jack 
Puddings ? " 

' ; Judith! I insist on you holding your tongue. I 
object to be associated, even in fancy, with such crea- 
tures." 

" Well — but Jamie was associated, not in fancy, but 
in horrible reality, with idiots." 



134 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Jnmie goes to Scantlebray's Asylum to-day." 

" Auntie!" 

" He is already in the hands of the Brothers Scantle- 
bray." 

Oh, auntie — no— no! " 
. " It is no pleasure to me to have to find the money, 
you may well believe. Seventy pounds is not, as I 
said, seventy pence, it is not seventy farthings. But 
duty is duty, and however painful and unpleasant and 
costly, it must be performed." 

Then from the adjoining room, " the shop," came Mr. 
Menaida. 

" I beg pardon for an interruption and for inter- 
ference," said he. " I happen to have overheard what 
has passed, as I was engaged in the next room, and I 
believe that I can make a proposal which will perhaps, 
be acceptable to you, Mrs. Trevisa, and grateful to Miss 
Judith." 

" I am ready to listen to you," said Aunt Dionysia, 
haughtily. 

" It is this," said Uncle Zachie. " I understand 
that pecuniary matters concerning Jamie are a little 
irksome. Now, the boy, if he puts his mind to it, car* 



ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER. 135 

be useful to me. He has a remarkable aptitude for 
taxidermy. I have more orders on my hands than I 
can attend to. I am a gentleman, not a tradesman, 
and I object to be oppressed — flattened out — with the 
orders piled on top of me. But if the boy will help, he 
can earn sufficient to pay for his living here, with 
me." 

"Oh, Mr. Menaida! dear Mr. Menaida ! thank you 
so much ! " exclaimed Judith. 

" Perhaps you will allow me to speak," said Miss 
Trevisa, with asperity. " I am guardian, and not you : 
whatever you may think from certain vague expressions 
dropped casually from my poor brother's lips, and to 
which you have attached an importance he never gave 
to them " 

"Aunt, I assure you, my dear papa " 

"That question is closed. We will not reopen it. 
I am a Trevisa; I can't for a moment imagine where 
you got those ideas. Not from your father's family, / 
am sure. Tight-rope dancers and Timbuctoo indeed ! " 
Then she turned to Mr. Menaida, and said, in her hard, 
constrained voice, as though she were exercising great 
moral control to prevent herself from snapping at him 



136 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

with her teeth: "Your proposal is kind and well 
intentioned, but I cannot accept it." 

" Oh, aunt ! why not ? " 

" That you shall hear. I must beg you not to inter- 
rupt me. You are so familiar with the manners of 
Timbuctoo and of Bartelmy Fair, that you forget those 
pertaining to England and to polished society." Then, 
turning to Mr. Menaida, she said, " I thank you for 
your well-intentioned proposal, which, however, it is 
not possible for me to close with. I must consider the 
boy's ulterior advantage, not the immediate relief to my 
sorely-tasked purse. I have thought proper to place 
James with a person, a gentleman of experience, and 
highly qualified to deal with those mentally afflicted. 
However much I may value you, Mr. Menaida, you 
must excuse me for saying that firmness is not a quality 
you have cultivated with assiduity. Judith, my niece, 
has almost ruined the boy by humouring him. You 
cannot stiffen a jelly by setting it in the sun, or in a 
chair before the fire, and that is what my niece has 
been doing. The boy must be isinglassed into solidity 
by those who know how to treat him. Mr. Obadiah 
Scantlebray is the man " 



ON A PEA COCK 'S FEA THER. 1 37 

"To manufacture idiots, madam, out of simple inno- 
cents; it is worth his while at seventy pounds a year," 
said Uncle Zachie, petulantly. 

Miss Trevisa looked at him sternly, and said — 

" Sir ! I suppose you know best. But it strikes me 
that such a statement relative to Mr. Obadiah Scantle- 
bray is actionable ; but you know best, being a 
solicitor." 

Mr. Menaida winced, and drew back. 

Judith leaned against the mantel-shelf, trembling with 
anxiety, and some anger. She thought that her aunt 
was acting in a heartless manner towards Jamie; that 
there was no good reason for refusing the generous 
offer of Uncle Zachie. In her agitation, unable to keep 
her ringers at rest, the girl played with the little chim- 
ney ornaments. She must occupy her nervous, twitch- 
ing hands about something ; tears of distress and 
mortification were swelling in her heart, and a fire was 
burning in two flames in her cheeks. What could she 
do to save Jamie ? What would become of the boy at 
the asylum ? It seemed to her that he would be driven 
out of his few wits by terror and ill-treatment, with 
distress at leaving her, and at losing his liberty to 



1.38 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

ramble about the cliffs where he liked. In a vase on 
the chimney-piece was a bunch of peacocks' feathers, 
and in her agitation, not thinking what she was about r 
desirous only of having something to pick at and play 
with in her hands, to disguise the trembling of the 
fingers, she took out one of the plumes, and trifled 
with it, waving it, and letting the light undulate over 
its wondrous surface of gold and green and blue. 

" As long as I have responsibility for the urchin "' 

said Miss Dionysia. 

" Urchin ! " muttered Judith. 

"As long as I have the charge I shall do my duty 
according to my lights, though they may not be those 
of a rush-aproned squaw in Timbuctoo, nor of a Jack 
Pudding balancing a feather on his nose." There was 
here a spiteful glance at Judith. " When my niece 
has a home of her own, is settled into a position of 
security and comfort, then I wash my hands of the 
responsibility ; she may do what she likes then — bring 
her brother to live with her, if she chooses and her 
husband consents — that will be naught to me." 

" And in the meantime," said Judith, holding the 
peacock's feather very still before her — " In the mean- 



ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER. 139 

time Jamie's mind is withered and stunted — his whole 
life is to be spoiled. Now — now alone can he be given 
a turn aright and towards growth." 

" That entirely depends on you," said Miss Trevisa,. 
coldly. " You know best what opportunities have 
offered " 

" Aunt, what do you mean ? " 

" Wait," said Uncle Zachie, rubbing his hands. 
" My boy Oliver is coming home. He has written ; his 
situation is a good one now." 

Miss Trevisa turned on him with a face of marble. 

" I entirely fail to see what your son Oliver has to do 
with the matter, more than the man in the moon. May 
I trouble you, as you so deeply interest yourself in our 
concerns, to step outside to Messrs. Scantlebray and 
that boy, and ask them to bring him in here. I have 
told them what the circumstances are, and they are 
prepared." 

Mr. Menaida left the room, not altogether unwilling 
to escape. 

" Now," said Aunt Dionysia, " I am relieved to find 
that for a minute we are by ourselves, not subjected to 
the prying and eavesdropping of the impertinent and the 



140 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

meddlesome. Mr. Menaida is a man who in his life 
never did good to himself or to any one else, though a 
man with the best intentions under the sun. Now 
Judith, I am a plain woman — that is to say, not plain, 
but straightforward — and I like to have everything 
above board. The case stands thus : I, in my capacity 
as guardian of that boy, am resolved to consign him 
immediately to the asylum, and to retain him there as 
long as my authority lasts, though it will cost me a 
pretty sum. You do not desire that he should go there. 
Well and good. There is but one way, but that is 
effectual, by means of which you can free Jamie from 
restraint. Let me tell you he is now in the hands of 
Mr. Obadiah, and gagged that he may not arouse the 
neighbourhood with his screams." Miss Trevisa fixed 
her hard eyes on Judith. " As soon as you take the 
responsibility off me, and on to yourself, you do with 
the boy what you like." 

" I will relieve you at once." 

" You are not in a condition to do so. As soon as I 
am satisfied that your future is secure, that you will 
have a house to call your own, and a certainty of sub- 
sistence for you both, then I will lay down my charge." 



ON A PEA COCK 'S FEA THER. r 4 1 

" And you mean " 

" I mean that you must first accept Captain Cop- 
pinger, who has been good enough to find you not 
intolerable. He is — in this one particular — unreason- 
able ; however, he is what he is, in this matter. He 
makes you the offer, gives you the chance. Take it, and 
you provide Jamie and yourself with a home ; the boy 
gets his freedom, and you can manage or mismanage him 
as you list. Refuse the chance, and Jamie is lodged 
in Mr. Scantlebray's establishment within an hour." 

" I cannot decide this on the spur of the moment." 

" Very well. You can let Jamie go, provisionally, to 
the asylum, and stay there till you have made up your 
mind." 

" Xo — no — no — aunt ! Never ! never ! " 

"As you will." Miss Trevisa shrugged her shoul- 
ders, and cast a glance at her niece like a dagger-stab. 

"Auntie, I am but a child." 

" That may be. But there are times when even 
children must decide momentous questions. A boy, 
as a child, decides on his profession ; a girl, may be, on 
her marriage." 

" Oh, dear auntie ! Do leave Jamie here for, say, a 



542 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

fortnight, and in a fortnight from to-day you shall 
•have my answer." 

" No," answered Miss Trevisa ; " I also must decide 
on my future, for your decision affects not Jamie only, 
but me also." 

Judith had listened in great self-restraint, holding the 
feather before her. She held it between thumb and 
forefinger of both hands, not concerning herself about it, 
and yet with her eyes watching the undulations from the 
end of the quill to the deep blue eye set in a halo of gold 
at the further end, and the feather undulated with every 
rise and fall of her bosom. 

" Surely, auntie, you cannot wish me to marry Cruel 
Coppinger ? " 

" I have no wishes one way or the other. Please 
yourself." 

" But, auntie " 

" You profess to be ready to do all you can for 
Jamie, and yet hesitate about relieving me of an 
irksome charge, and Jamie of what you consider bar- 
barous treatment." 

" You cannot be serious — / to marry Captain Cruel ! " 

" It is a serious offer." 



ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER. 143 

" But papa ! what would he say ? " 

" I never was in a position to tell his thoughts and 
guess what his words would be." 

" But — auntie, he is such a bad man." 

" You know a great deal more about him than do I, 
of course." 

" But — he is a smuggler, I do know that." 

11 Well — and what of that. There is no crime in that." 

" It is not an honest profession. They say, too, that 
he is a wrecker." 

" They say! Who say ? What do you know ? " 

" Nothing; but I am not likely to trust my future to 
a man of whom such tales are told, auntie. Would 
you, supposing that you were " 

" I will have none of your suppositions. I never did 
wear a rush apron, nor act as Juck Pudding." 

" I cannot — Captain Cruel of all men." 

" Is he so hateful to you ? " 

''Hateful — no; but I cannot like him. He has 
been kind ; but somehow I can't think of him as — as — 
as a man of our class and thoughts and ways, as one 
worthy of my own, own papa. No — it is impossible ; I 
am still a child." 



144 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

She took the end of the peacock's feather ; the 
splendid eye lustrous with metallic beauty, and bowed 
the plume, without breaking it, and, unconscious of 
what she was doing, stroked her lips with it. What a 
fragile, fine quill that was on which hung so much 
beauty ! and how worthless the feather would be 
when that quill was broken ! And so with her — her 
fine, elastic, strong spirit, that when bowed sprang to 
its uprightness the moment the pressure was with- 
drawn : that strong spirit on which all her charm, her 
beauty, hung. 

"Captain Coppinger has, surely, never asked you to 
put this alternative to me ? " 

" No — I do it myself. As you are a child you are 
unfit to take the charge of your brother. When you 
are engaged to be married you are a woman ; I shift 
my load on you then." 

" And you wish it ? " 

" I repeat I have no wishes in the matter." 

" Give me time to consider." 

" No ; it must be decided now — that is to say, if you 
do not wish Jamie to be taken away. Don't fancy 
I want to persuade you ; but I want to be satisfied 



ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER. 145 

about my own future. I shall not remain in Pentyre 
with you. As you enter by the front door, I leave by 
the back." 

" Where will you go ? " 

" That is my affair." 

Then in at the door came the two Scantlebrays, hav- 
ing Jamie between them, gagged, and with his hands 
bound behind his back. The boy had run out directly 
his examination was over, and had been secured almost 
without resistance, so taken by surprise was he, and 
reduced to a condition of helplessness. 

Judith leaned against the mantel-shelf, with every 
tinge of colour gone out of her cheeks. Jamie's 
frightened eyes met hers, and he made a slight 
struggle to speak, and to escape to her. 

" You have a close conveyance ready for your 
patient ? " asked Aunt Dionysia of the brothers. 

" Oh, yes, a very snug little box on wheels. Scanty 
and I will sit with our young man, to prevent his 
feeling dull, you know." 

11 You understand, gentlemen, what I told you, that 
in the decision whether the boy is to go with you 
or not, I am not the only one to be considered? If 

vol. 11. 11 



146 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

I have my will, go he shall, as I am convinced that 
your establishment is the very place for him ; but my 
niece, Miss Judith, has at her option the chance of 
taking the responsibility for the boy off my shoulders, 
and if she chooses to do that, why then I fear she will 
continue to spoil him, as she has done heretofore." 

" It has cost us time and money," said Scantlebray 
senior. 

"And you shall be paid, whichever way is decided," 
said Miss Trevisa. " Everything now rests with my 
niece." 

Judith seemed as one petrified. One hand was on 
her bosom, staying her heart, the other held the pea- 
cock's feather before her, horizontally. Every particle 
of colour had deserted, not her face only, but her hands 
as well. Her eyes were sunken; her lips contracted 
and livid. She was motionless as a marble statue ; she 
hardly seemed to breathe. She perfectly understood 
what her aunt had laid before her, and her bodily 
sensations were dead, whilst a conflict of ideas raged 
in her brain. She was the arbiter of Jamie's fate. 
She did not disguise from herself that if consigned to 
the keeper of the asylum, though only for a week or 



THROUGH THE TAMARISKS. 147 

two, he would not leave his charge the same as he 
entered. And what would it avail her or him to post- 
pone the decision for a week or for a fortnight ? 

The brothers Scantlebray knew nothing of the 
question agitating her, but they saw that the determina- 
tion which she was resolving to arrive at was one 
that cost her all her powers. Mr. Obadiah's heavy 
mind did not exert itself to probe the secret, but the 
more eager intellect of his elder brother was alert, and 
wondering what might be the matter that so affected 
the girl, and made it difficult for her to pronounce her 
decision. The hard eyes of Miss Trevisa were fixed on 
her. Judith's answer would decide her future ; on it 
depended Othello Cottage, and an annuity of fifty 
pounds. Jamie looked through a veil of tears at his 
sister, and never for a moment turned his eyes from 
her from the moment of his entry into the room. In- 
stinctively the boy felt that his freedom and happiness 
depended on her. 

One or the other must be sacrificed, that Judith 
saw. Jamie was dull of mind, but there were 
possibilities of development in it. And, even if he 
remained where he was, he was happy, happy and 



148 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

really harmless, if a little mischievous ; an offer had 
been made which was likely to lead him on into 
industrious ways, and to teach him application. He 
loved his liberty, loved it as does the gull. In an 
asylum he would pine, his mind become more 
enfeebled, and he would die. But then — what a price 
must be paid to save him ? Oh, if she could have put 
the question to her father ! But she had none to 
appeal to for advice. If she gave to Jamie liberty 
and happiness, it was at the certain sacrifice of her 
own. But there was no evading the decision, one or 
the other must be sacrificed. 

She stretched forth the peacock's feather, laid the 
great indigo blue eye on the bands that held Jamie,, 
on his gagged lips, and said, " Let him go." 

" You agree," exclaimed Miss Trevisa. 

Judith doubled the peacock's feather and broke it. 



CHAPTER XXX. 



THROUGH THE TAMARISKS. 



For some days after Judith had given her consent, 
and had released Jamie from the hands of the 
Scantlebrays, she remained silent and white. Uncle 
Zachie missed the music to which he had become used, 
and complained. She then seated herself at the piano, 
but was distraught, played badly, and the old bird- 
stuffer went away, grumbling, to his shop. 

Jamie was happy, delighted not to be afflicted with 
lessons, and forgot past troubles in present pleasures. 
That the recovery of his liberty had been bought at 
a heavy price, he did not know, and would not have 
appreciated it had he been told the sacrifice Judith had 
been ready to make for his sake. 

In the garden behind the cottage was an arbour 



ISO IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

composed of half a boat set up, that is to say, an old 
boat sawn in half, and erected, so that it served as 
a shelter to a seat, which was fixed into the earth on 
posts. From one side of this boat a trellice had been 
drawn, and covered with escallonia, and a seat placed 
here as well, so that in this rude arbour it was possible 
for more than one person to find accommodation* 
Here Judith and Jamie often sat ; the back of the boat 
was set against the prevailing wind from the sea, and on 
this coast the air is usually soft at the same time that 
it is bracing, enjoyable wherever a little shelter is 
provided against its violence. For violent it can be, 
and can buffet severely, yet its blows are those of 
a pillow. 

Here Judith was sitting one afternoon alone, lost in 
a dream, when Uncle Zachie came into the garden 
with his pipe in his mouth, to stretch his legs, after 
a few minutes' work at stuffing a cormorant. 

In her lap lay a stocking Judith was knitting for her 
brother, but she had made few stitches, and yet had 
been an hour in the summer-house. The garden of 
Mr. Menaida was hedged off from a neighbour's 
grounds by a low wall of stone and clay and sand, 



THROUGH THE TAMARISKS. 15* 

in and out of which grew rankly strong tamarisks, 
now in their full pale pink blossom. The eyes of 
Judith had been on these tamarisks waving like 
plumes in the sea air, when she was startled from her 
reverie by the voice of Uncle Zachie. 

" Why, Miss Judith ! What is the matter with 
you ? Dull, eh ? Ah, wait a bit, when Oliver comes 
home we shall have mirth. He is full of merriment. 
A bright boy and a good son ; altogether a fellow to be 
proud of, though I say it. He will return at the 
fall." 

" I am glad to hear it, Mr. Menaida. You have not 
seen him for many years ? " 

" Not for ten." 

" It will be a veritable feast to you. Does he remain 
long in England ?" 

" I cannot say. If his employers find work for him 
at home, then at home he will tarry; but if they con- 
sider themselves best served by him at Oporto, then to 
Portugal must he return." 

" Will you honour me by taking a seat near me — • 
under the trellis ? " asked Judith. " It will, indeed, 
be a pleasure to me to have a talk with you ; and I do 



152 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

need it very sore. My heart is so full, that I feel 
I must spill some of it before a friend." 

" Then, indeed, I will hold out both hands to catch 
the sweetness." 

" Nay — it is bitter, not sweet, bitter as gall, and 
briny as the ocean." 

"Not possible, a little salt gives savour." 

She shook her head, took up the stocking, did 
a couple of stitches, and put it down again. The 
sea-breeze that tossed the pink branches of tamarisk 
waved stray tresses of her red-gold hair, but somehow 
the brilliancy, the burnish, seemed gone from it. Her 
eyes were sunken, and there was a greenish tinge 
about the ivory white surrounding her mouth. 

"I cannot work, dear Mr. Menaida; I am so sorry 
that I should have played badly that sonata last night ; 
I know it fretted you, but I could not help myself, my 
mind is so selfishly directed, that I cannot attend to 
-anything even of Beethoven's in music, nor to stocking 
knitting even for Jamie." 

" And what are the bitter, briny thoughts ? " 

Judith did not answer «at once, she looked down into 
her lap, and Mr. Menaida, whose pipe was choked, 



THROUGH THE TAMARISKS. 153 

went to the tamarisks and plucked a little piece, 
stripped off the flower, and proceeded to clear the tube 
with it. 

Presently, whilst Uncle Zachie's eyes were engaged 
on the pipe, Judith looked up, and said hastily, " I am 
very young, Mr. Menaida." 

" A fault in process of rectification every day," said 
he, blowing through the stem of his pipe. " I think it 
is clear now." 

" I mean — young to be married." 

11 To be married — zounds!" He turned his eyes on 
her in surprise, holding the tamarisk spill in one hand, 
and the pipe in the other, poised in the air. 

11 You have not understood that I got Jamie off the 
•other day only by taking full charge of him upon 
myself, and relieving my aunt." 

" But, good gracious, you are not going to marry 
your brother." 

" My aunt would not transfer the guardianship to me 
unless I were qualified to undertake and exercise it 
properly, according to her ideas, and that could be 
only by my becoming engaged to be married to a 
man of substance." 



154 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Goodness help me ! what a startlement ! And who 
is the happy man to be ? Not Scantlebray, senior, 
I trust, whose wife is dying ? " 

" No — Captain Coppinger." 

" Cruel Coppinger ! " Uncle Zachie put down his 
pipe so suddenly on the bench by him that he broke it. 
' : Cruel Coppinger! Never ! " 

She said nothing to this, but rose and walked, with- 
her head down, along under the bank, and put her hands 
among the waving pink branches of tamarisk bloom, 
sweeping the heads with her own delicate hand as she 
passed. Then she came back to the boat-arbour and 
reseated herself. 

" Dear me ! Bless my heart ! I could not have 
credited it," gasped Mr. Menaida ; " and I had such 
different plans in my head — but there, no more about 
them." 

" I had to make my election whether to take him and 
qualify to become Jamie's guardian, or refrain, and 
then he would have been snatched away and im- 
prisoned in that odious place again." 

"But my dear Miss Judith " The old man was 

so agitated that he did not know what he was about ;. 



THROUGH THE TAMARISKS. 155 

he put the stick of tamarisk into his mouth in place of 
his pipe, and took it out to speak, put down his hand, 
picked up the bowl of his pipe, and tapped the end of 
the tamarisk spill with that. " Mercy save me ! 
What a world we do live in ! And I had been building: 
for you a castle — not in Spain, but in a contiguous 
country. Who'd have thought it ? And Cruel 
Coppinger too ! Upon my soul, I don't want to say 
I am sorry for it, and I can't find in my heart to 
say I'm glad." 

" I do not expect that you will be glad — not if you 
have any love for me." 

The old man turned round ; his eyes were watering* 
and his face twitching. 

" I have. Heaven knows I have, Ju — I mean Miss 
Judith ! " 

"Mr. Menaida," said the girl, "you have been so 
kind, so considerate, that I should like to call you 
what every one else does when speaking of you to one 
another — not to your face — Uncle Zachie." 

He put out his hand — it was shaking — and caught 
hers. He put the ends of the ringers to his lips, but 
he kept his face averted, and the water that had 



156 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

formed in his eyes ran down his cheeks. He did not 
venture to speak. He had lost command over his voice. 

" You see, uncle, I have no one of whom to ask 
•counsel. I have only aunt, and she — somehow I feel 
that I cannot go to her and get from her the advice 
best suited to me. Now papa is dead I am entirely 
alone, and I have to decide on matters most affecting 
my own life and that of Jamie. I do so crave for a 
friend who could give me an opinion, but I have no one 
if you refuse." 

He pressed her hand. 

" Not that now I can go back from my word. I have 
passed that to Aunt Dionysia, and draw back I may not; 
but somehow, as I sit and think and think, and try to 
screw myself up to the resolution that must be reached 
of giving up my hand and my whole life into the power 
of — of that man, I cannot attain to it. I feel like one 
who is condemned to cast himself down a precipice and 
shrinks from it, cannot make up his mind to spring, 
but draws back after every run made to the edge. Tell 
me — uncle — tell me truly, what do you think about 
Captain Coppinger? What do you know about him? 
Is he a very wicked man ? " 



THROUGH THE TAMARISKS. 157 

" You ask me what I think, and also what I know," 
said Mr. Menaida, releasing her hand. " I know 
nothing, but I have my thoughts." 

"Then tell me what you think." 

" As I have said, I know nothing. I do not know 
whence he comes. Some say he is a Dane, some that 
he is a Frenchman. I cannot tell, I know nothing, 
but I think his intonation is Irish, and I have heard 
that there is a family of that name in Ireland. But 
this is all guess-work. One thing I do know — he 
speaks French like a native. Then, as to his character. 
I believe him to be a man of ungovernable temper, 
who, when his blood is roused, will stick at nothing. 
I think him a man of very few scruples. But he has 
done liberal things ; he is open-handed — that all say. 
A hard liver, and with a rough tongue, and yet with 
some of the polish of a gentleman ; a man with the 
passions of a devil, but not without in him some sparks 
of divine light. That is what I think him to be. And, 
if you ask me further, whether I think him a man 
calculated to make you happy, I say decidedly that he 
is not." 

Barely ever before in his life had Mr. Menaida spoken 
with such decision. 



558 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" He has been kind to me," said Judith, "very 
kind." 

" Because he is in love with you." 

" And gentle " 

" Have you ever done aught to anger him ? " 

"Yes; I threw him down and broke his arm and 
collar-bone." 

" And won his heart by so doing." 

" Uncle Zachie, he is a smuggler." 

" Yes ; there is no doubt about that." 

" Do you suppose, if I were to entreat him, that he 
would abandon smuggling ? I have already had it in 
.my heart to ask him this, but I could not bring the 
request over my lips." 

" I have no doubt if you asked him to throw up his 
•smuggling that he would promise to do so. Whether 
he would keep his promise is another matter. Many'a 
girl has made her lover swear to give up gambling, and 
on that understanding has married him, but I reckon 
none have been able to keep their husbands to the 
engagement. Gambling, smuggling, and poaching, my 
dear, are in the blood. A man brings the love of 
adventure, the love of running a risk, into the world 



THROUGH THE TAMARISKS. 159 

with him. If I had been made by my wife to swear 
when I married never to touch a musical instrument, 
I might, out of love for her, have sworn, but I could 
not have kept my oath. And you, if you vowed to keep 
your fingers from needle and thread, and you saw your 
gown in rags, or your husband's linen frayed, would 
find an irresistible itch in the fingers' ends to mend and 
hem, and you would do it in spite of your vow. So 
with a gambler, a poacher, and a smuggler — the 
instinct, the passion is in them, and is irresistible. 
Don't impose any promise on Captain Cruel ; it will 
not tie him." 

" They tell me he is a wrecker." 

"What do you mean by a wrecker? We are all 
wreckers, after a storm, when a merchantman has gone 
to pieces on the rocks, and the shore is strewn with 
prizes. I have taken what I could, and I see no harm 
in it. When the sea throws treasures here and there, 
it is a sin not to take them up and use them, and be 
thankful." 

" I do not mean that. I mean that he has been the 
means of luring ships to their destruction." 

" Of that I know nothing. Stories circulate when- 



160 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

ever there is a wreck not in foul weather or with a wind 
on shore. But who can say whether they be true or 
false ? " 

"And what about that man Wyvill? Did he kill 
him ? " 

" There, also, I can say nothing, because I know 
nothing. All that can be said about the matter is that 
the Preventive man Wyvill was found at sea, or washed 
ashore without his head. A shark may have done it, 
and sharks have been found off our coast, I cannot 
tell. There is not a shadow of evidence that could 
justify an indictment. All that can be stated that 
makes against Coppinger is that the one is a smuggler, 
the other was a Preventive man, and that the latter 
was found dead, and with his head off, an unusual 
circumstance, but not sufficient to show that he had 
been decapitated by any man, nor that the man who 
decapitated him was Coppinger." 

Then Mr. Menaida started up. "And — you sell 
yourself to this man for Jamie ? " 

" Yes, uncle, to make a man of Jamie." 

" On the chance, Judith, on the very doubtful chance, 
of making a man of Jamie you rush on the certainty of 



THROUGH THE TAMARISKS. 161 

making a ruin of yourself. That man — that Coppinger 
to be trusted with you ! A fair little vessel, richly 
laden, with silken sail and cedar sides, comes skimming 
over the sea, and — Heaven forgive me if I judge wrongly 
— but I think he is a wrecker, enticing, constraining 
you on to the reefs where you will break up, and all your 
treasures will — not fall to him — but sink; and all that 
will remain of you will be a battered and broken hull 
and a draggled, discoloured sail. I cannot — I cannot 
endure the thought." 

" Yet it must be endured, faced and endured by me," 
said Judith. " You are a cruel comforter, Uncle 
Zachie. I called you to encourage me, and you cast 
me down, to lighten my load, and you heap more on." 

"I can do no other," gasped Mr. Menaida. Then he 
sprang back, with open mouth, aghast. He saw Cruel 
Coppinger on the other side of the hedge ; he had put 
his hands to the tamarisk bushes, and had thrust them 
apart, and was looking through. 

" Goldfish ! " called Captain Coppinger— " Gold- 
fish, come I " 

Judith knew the voice, and looked in the direction 
whence it came, and saw the large hands of Coppinger 

VOL. II. 12 



162 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

holding back the boughs of tamarisk, his dark face in 
the gap. She rose at once, and stepped towards him. 

" You are ill," he said, fixing his sombre eyes on her. 

" I am not ill in body. I have had much to harass 
my mind." 

" Yes, that Wadebridge business." 

" Much that has sprung out of it." 

" Shall I come to you, or will you to me ? — through 
the tamarisks ? " 

" As you will, Captain Coppinger." 

" Come, then — up on to the hedge and jump. I 
will catch you in my arms. I have held you there ere 
this." 

" Yes, you have taken me up ; now must I 
throw " 

She did not finish the sentence ; she meant must she 
voluntarily throw herself into his arms. She caught 
hold of the bushes, and raised herself to the top of the 
hedge. 

" By Heaven ! " said he, "the tamarisk flowers have 
more colour in them than your face." 

She stood on the summit of the bank, the tamarisks 
rising to her knees, waving in the wind about her. 



THROUGH THE TAMARISKS. 163 

Must she resign herself to that man of whom she knew 
so little, whom she feared so greatly ? There was no 
help for it. She must. He held out his arms. She 
sprang, and he caught her. 

" I have you now," he said, with a laugh of triumph. 
" You have come to me, and I will never give you up." 



CHAPTER XXXL 

AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS. 

Coppinger held her in his arms, shook her hair out so 
that it streamed over his arm ; and thus he looked into 
her upturned face. 

" Indeed you are light — lighter than when I bare 
you in my arms before ; and you are thin and white, 
and the eyes, how red ! You have been crying. What I 
this spirit, strong as a steel spring, is so subdued that it 
gives way to weeping! " 

Judith's eyes were closed against the strong light 
from the sky above, and against the sight of his face 
bent over hers, and the fire-glint of his eyes, dark as a 
thundercloud, and as full charged with lightnings. And 
now there was a flashing of fire from them, of love, and 
pride, and admiration. The strong man trembled 



AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS. 165 

beneath his burden in the vehemence of his emotion, 
•with the boiling and foaming of his heart within him, as 
he held the frail child in his arms, and knew that in a 
short space she was to be his own, his own wholly. It 
was for the moment to him as though all earth and sea 
and heaven were dissolved into nebulous chaos, and the 
only life, the only pulses, in the universe were in him 
and the little creature he held to his breast. He looked 
into her face, down on her as Vesuvius must have 
looked down on lovely, marble-white Pompeii, with its 
gilded roofs and incense-scented temples, and restrained 
itself so long as it could restrain its molten heart, 
before it poured forth its fires and consumed the pearly 
city lying in its arms. 

He looked at her closed eyelids, with the long golden 
lashes resting on the dark sunken dip beneath, at the 
delicate mouth drawn as with pain, at the white 
temples in which slowly throbbed the blue veins, at 
the profusion of red-gold hair streaming over his arm 
and almost touching the ground. 

She knew that his eyes — on fire — were on her, and 
she dared not meet them, for there would be a shrink- 
ing from him, no responsive leap of flame from hers. 



1 66 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Shall I carry you about like this ? " he asked. " I 
could, and I would, to the world's end, and leap with 
you thence into the unfathomed abyss." 

Her head, leaning back on his arm, with the gold rain 
from it falling, exposed her long and delicate throat of 
exquisite purity of tint and beauty of modelling, and on 
it lay a little tuft of pink tamarisk blossom, brushed off 
in her leap into his arms, and then caught in the light 
edging of her gown at the neck. 

"And you came to me of your own will!" he 
said. 

Then Judith slightly turned her head to avoid his. 
eyes, and said, " I have come — it was unavoidable. Let 
me down that we may speak together." 

He obeyed with reluctance. Then, standing before 
him, she bound up and fastened her hair. 

" Look ! " said he, and threw open his collar. A 
ribbon was tied about his throat. " Do you see this ? " 
He loosed the band and held it to her. One delicate 
line of gold ran along the silk, fastened to it by threads 
at intervals. "Your one hair — the one left with me 
when you first heard me speak my heart's wish, and 
you disdained me and went your way. You left me 



AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS. 167 

that one hair, and that one hair I have kept wound 
round my neck ever since, and it has seemed to me 
that I might still hope so long as I retained that hair„ 
And see — I have caught my goldfish, my saucy gold- 
fish that at first swam away from my hook." 

Judith said, calmly, " Let us walk together some- 
where — to S. Enodoc, to my father's grave, and then, 
over that sand-heap, we will settle what must be 
settled." 

" I will go with you where you will. You are my 
queen — I your subject; it is my place to obey." 

"The subject has sometimes risen and destroyed the 
queen. It has been so in France." 

"Yes, when the subject has been too hardly treated, 
too downtrodden, not allowed to look on and adore the 
queen." 

"And," said Judith, further, "let us walk in silence. 
Allow me the little space between here and my father's 
grave to collect my thoughts. Bear with me for that 
short distance." 

" As you will. I am your slave, as I have told you, 
and you, my mistress, have but to command." 

" Yes, but the slave sometimes becomes the master, 



1 68 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

and then is all the more tyrannous because of his 
former servitude." 

So they walked together, yet apart, from Polzeath, to 
S. Enodoc, neither speaking, and it might have been a 
mourner's walk at a funeral. She held her head down, 
-and did not raise her eyes from the ground, but he con- 
tinued to gaze on her with a glow of triumph and exul- 
tation in his face. 

They reached at length the deserted church, sunken 
in the sands ; it had a hole broken in the wall under 
the eaves on the south, rudely barricaded, through 
which the sacred building might be entered for such 
functions as a marriage, or the first part of the funeral 
office, that must be performed in a church. 

The roof was of pale grey slate, small, much broken, 
folding over the rafters, like the skin on the ribs of an 
old horse past work. The churchyard was covered 
with blown sand, gravestones were in process of being 
buried, like those whom they commemorated. Some 
stood a little above the sand, with a fat cherub's head 
peering above the surface, others stood high on the 
land side, but were banked up by sand towards the sea. 
Here the churchyard surface was smooth, there it was 



AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS. 169 

tossed into undulations, according as the sand had been 
swept over portions tenanted by the poor who were 
uncommemorated with headstones, or over those where 
lay the well-to-do with their titles and virtues registered 
above them. 

There was as yet no monument erected over the 
grave of the Reverend Peter Trevisa, sometime rector 
•of S. Enodoc. The mound had been turfed over and 
bound down with withies. The loving hands of his 
daughter had planted above where he lay some of the 
old favourite flowers from the long walk at the rectory, 
but they had not as yet taken to the soil ; the sand ill- 
agreed with them, and the season of the year when 
their translation had taken place dissatisfied them ; 
they looked forlorn, drooping, and doubted whether 
they would make the struggle to live. 

Below the church lay the mouth of the Camel, blue 
between sand-hills, with the Doom Bar, a long and 
treacherous bank of shifting sands, in the midst. 

On reaching the churchyard Judith signed to Captain 
•Coppinger to seat himself on a flat tombstone on the 
south side of her father's grave, and she herself leaned 
against the headstone that marked her mother's tomb. 



170 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" I think we should come to a thorough under- 
standing," she said, with composure, " that you may 
not expect of me what I cannot give, and may know the- 
reason why I give you anything. You call me gold- 
fish. Why ? " 

" Because of your golden hair." 

" No, that was not what sprung the idea in your 
brain ; it was something I said to you — that you and I 
stood to each other in the relation of bird of prey to- 
fish, belonging to distinct modes of life and manner of 
thinking, and that we could never be to one another in 
any other relation than that, the falcon and his prey,, 
the flame and its fuel, the wrecker and the wrecked." 

Coppinger started up and became red as blood. 

" These are strange words," he said. 

" It is the same that I said before." 

11 Then why have you given yourself to me ? " 

" I have resigned myself to you as I cannot help' 
myself, any more than can the fish that is pounced 
on by the sea bird, or the fuel that is enveloped by 
the flame, or the ship that is boarded by the wreckers."' 

She looked up at him steadily ; he was quivering 
with excitement, anger, and disappointment. 



AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS. 171 

" It is quite right that you should know what to 
expect, and make no more demands on me than I am 
capable of answering. You cannot ask of me that I 
should become like you, and I do not entertain the 
foolish thought that you could be brought to be like me 
— to see through my eyes, feel with my heart. My 
dead father lies between us now, and he will ever be 
between us — he a man of pure life, noble aspirations, a 
man of books, of high principle, fearing God and loving 
men. What he was, that he tried to make me. Imper- 
fectly, faultily, I follow him, but, though unable to be 
like him, I strive after what he showed me should be 
my ideal." 

"You are a child. You will be a woman, and new 
thoughts will come to you." 

"Will they be good and honourable and contented 
thoughts ? Shall I find these in your house ? " 

Coppinger did not reply ; his brows were drawn 
together, and his face became dark. 

" Why, then, have you promised to come to me ? " 

" Because of Jamie." 

He uttered an oath, and with his hands clenched the 
upper stone of the tomb. 



372 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" I have promised my aunt that I will accept you if 
you will suffer my poor brother to live where I live, and 
permit me to be his protector. He is helpless, and must 
have seme one to think and watch for him. My aunt 
would have sent him to Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray's 
asylum, and that would have been fatal to him. To 
save him from that I said that I would be yours, on 
the condition that my home should be his home. I 
have passed my word to my aunt, and I will not go 
from it, but that does not mean that I have changed 
my belief that we are unfitted for each other, because 
we belong to different orders of being." 

"This is cold comfort." 

" It is cold as ice, but it is all that I have to give to 
you. I wish to put everything plainly before you now, 
that there may be no misapprehension later, and you 
may be asking of me what I cannot give, and be angry 
at not receiving what I never promised to sur- 
render." 

" So ! I am only accepted for the sake of that boy 
James." 

" It is painful for me to say what I do — as painful as 
it must be for you to hear it, but I cannot help myself. 



AMOXG THE SAXD-HEAPS. 173 

I wish to put all coldly and hardly before you before an 
irrevocable step is taken, such as might make us both 
wretched. I take you for Jamie's sake. Were his 
happiness, his well-being, not in the scale, I would not 
take you. I would remain free." 

" That is plain enough," exclaimed Coppinger, setting 
his teeth, and he broke off a piece of the tombstone on 
which he was half sitting. 

" You will ask of me love, honour, and obedience, 
I will do my best to love you — like you I do now, for 
you have been kind and good to me, and I can never 
forget what you have done for me. But it is a long 
leap from liking to loving. Still I will try my best, and 
if I fail it will not be for lack of effort. Honour is 
another matter. That lies in your own power to give. 
If you behave as a good and worthy man to your 
fellows, and justly towards me, of course I shall honour 
you. I must honour what is deserving of honour, and 
where I honour there I may come to love. I cannot 
love where I do not honour, so perhaps I may say that 
my heart is in your hands, and that if those hands are 
clean and righteous in their dealings, it may become 
yours some time. As to obedience — that you shall 



174 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

command. That I will render to you frankly and fully 
in all things lawful." 

" You offer me an orange from which all the juice 
has been squeezed, a nut without a kernel." 

" I offer you all I have to offer. Is it worth your 
while having this ? " 

" Yes ! " said he, angrily, starting up ; "I will have 
what I can, and wring the rest out of you when once 
you are mine.'' 

" You never will wring anything out of me. I give 
what I may, but nothing will I yield to force." 

He looked at her sullenly and said, "A child in years, 
with an old head and a stony heart." 

" I have always lived with my father, and so have 
•come to think like one that is old," said Judith. " And 
now, alone in the world, I must think with ripened 
wits." 

" I do not want that precocious, wise soul, if that be 
the kernel. I will have the shell — the glorious shell. 
Keep your wisdom and righteousness and piety for 
yourself. I do not value them a rush ; but your love I 
will have." 

" I have told you there is but one way by which that 



AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS. 175 

may be won. But, indeed, Captain Coppinger, you 
have made a great mistake in thinking of me. I am 
not suited to you to make you happy and content, any 
more than you are suited to me. Look out for some 
girl more fit to be your mate." 

" Of what sort ? Come, tell me ! " said Coppinger, 
scornfully. 

"A fine, well-built girl, dark-haired, dark-eyed, with 
cheeks as apricots, lively in mood, with nimble tongue, 
good-natured, not bookish, not caring for brush or 
piano ; one who can take a rough word and return it ; 
who will not wince at an oath, and shrink away at 
coarse words flung about where she is. All these things 
you know very well must be encountered by your wife 
in your house. Did you ever read ' Hamlet,' Captain 
Coppinger ? " 

He made no answer ; he was plucking at the slab- 
cover of the tomb, and grinding his heels into the 
sand. 

" In ' Hamlet ' we read of a king poisoned by his 
queen, who dipped the juice of cursed hebenon into his 
ears, and it curdled all his blood. It is the same with 
the sort of language that is found in your house when 



176 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

your seamen are there. I cannot endure it, it curdles 
my heart. Choose a girl who is indifferent." 

" You shall not be subjected to it," said Coppinger ; 
"and, as to the girl you have sketched, I care not for 
her. Such as you describe are to be found thick as 
whortleberries on a moor. Do you not know that man 
seeks in marriage not his counterpart but his contrast ? 
It is because you are in all things different from me 
that I love you." 

"Then, will naught that I have said make you 
desist ? " 

" Naught." 

" I have told you that I take you only so as to be 
able to make a home for Jamie." 

" Yes." 

" And that I do not love you, and hardly think I ever 
can." 

"Yes." 

" And still — you will have me ? " 

" Yes." 

" And that by taking me you wreck my life, spoil my 
happiness." 

He raised his head, then dropped it again, and said — 



AMONG THE SAXD-HEAPS. 177 

" Yes." 

She remained silent, also looking on the ground. 
Presently she raised her head and said — 

" I gave you a chance, and you have cast it from 
you. I am sorry." 

" A chance ? What chance ? " 

" The chance of taking a first step up the ladder in 
my esteem." 

" I do not understand you." 

" Therefore I am sorry." 

" What is your meaning ? " 

" Captain Coppinger," said Judith, firmly, looking 
straight into his dark face and flickering eyes, " I am 
very, very sorry. When I told you that I accepted 
your offer only because I could not help myself, because 
I was a poor, feeble orphan, with a great responsibility 
laid on me, the charge of my unfortunate brother — that 
I only accepted you for his sake ; when I told you that 
I did not love you ; that our characters, our feelings, 
were so different, that it would be misery to me to 
become your wife, that it would be the ruin of my life 
— then, had you been a man of generous soul, you 
would have said : ' I will not force myself upon you, 

vol. 11. 13 



178 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

but I will do one thing for you, assist you in protecting 
Jamie from the evil that menaces him.' Had you said 
that, I would have honoured you, and, as I said just 
now, where I honour there I may love. But you could 
not think such a thought, no such generous feeling 
stirred you. You hold me to my bond." 

" I hold you to your bond ! " exclaimed Coppinger, 
in livid rage; "I hold you, indeed. Even though you 
can neither love nor honour me, you shall be mine. 
You likened me to a bird of prey that must have its 
prey or die ; to a fire, and that must have its fuel ; to 
a wrecker, and he must have his wreck. I care not. 
I will have you as mine whether you love me or not." 

" So be it, then," said Judith, sadly. " You had 
your opportunity, and have put it from you. We 
understand each other. The slave is master — and a 
tyrant." 



CHAPTER XXXII 



A DANGEROUS GIFT. 



44 I du love a proper muddle cruel bad, I du," said 
Jump ; and had what she loved, for the preparations 
for Judith's marriage threw Mr. Menaida's twin cottage 
into a "proper muddle.'* There were the cakes to be 
baked, and for a while the interior of the house was 
pervaded by that most delicious aroma of baking bread, 
superior to Frangipanni, Jockey Club, and Wood Violet. 
Then came the dusting, and after that the shaking and 
beating of rugs, and sofa and chairs. Then it was 
discovered that the ceiling and walls would be the 
better for white and colour-wash. This entailed the 
turning out of everything previously dusted and tidied 
and arranged. Neither Mr. Menaida nor Jump had 
■any other idea of getting things into order than that of 



r8o IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

throwing all into a muddle in the hopes that out of 
chaos creation and order might spring. 

A dressmaker had been engaged, and material pur- 
chased for the fabrication of a trousseau. This- 
naturally interested Jump vastly, and Jump paid 
repeated visits to the dressmaker whilst engaged on 
her work. On one such occasion she neglected the 
kitchen, and allowed some jam to become burnt. On 
another she so interested the needlewoman, and 
diverted her attention from her work whilst cutting, 
out, that the latter cut out two right arms to the 
wedding-gown. This involved a difficulty, as it was. 
not practicable either to turn the one sleeve, and 
convert it into a left arm, nor to remove Judith's left 
arm and attach it to the right side of her body, and so 
accommodate her to the gown. The mercer at Camel- 
ford was communicated with, from whom the material 
had been procured, but he was out of it. He, however, 
was in daily expectation of a consignment of more of 
the same stuff. A fortnight later he was able to supply 
the material, sufficient for a left sleeve, but unfor- 
tunately of a different colour. The gown had to be 
laid aside till some one could be found of Judith's size 



A DANGEROUS GIFT. 181 

and figure, with two right arms, and also who wanted 
a wedding-dress, and, also, would be disposed to take 
this particular one at half the cost of the material, or 
else to let the gown stand over till after the lapse of a 
century or thereabouts, when the fashion would prevail 
for ladies to wear sleeves of a different substance and 
colour from their bodies and skirts. 

"'Taint a sort o' a courtin' as I'd give a thankee 
for," said Jump. " There was Camelford Goose Fair, 
and whether he axed her to go wi' him and pick a 
goose I can't tell, but I know her never went. Then a' 
Sundays they don't walk one another out. And he 
don't come arter her to the back garden, and she go to 
him, and no whisperings and kissings. I've listened a 
score o' times a hoping and a wishing to see and hear 
the likes, and never once, as I'm a Christian and a 
female. There were my sister Jane, when she was 
going to be married, her got that hot and blazin' red 
that I thought it were scarlatina, but it was naught but 
excitement. But the young mistress — bless 'ee ! her 
gets whiter and colder every day, and I'd say, if such a 
thing were possible, that her'd rather her never was a 
going to be married, but you see that ain't in natur' — 



J 82 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

leastways wi' us females. I tell 'ee I never seed him 
once put his arm round her waist. If this be courtin' 
among gentlefolks, all I say is, preserve and deliver me 
from being a lady." 

It was as Jump in her vulgar way put it. Judith 
alone in the house appeared to take no interest in the 
preparations. It was only after a struggle with her 
aunt that she had yielded to have the wedding in 
November. She had wished it postponed till the 
spring, but Cruel Coppinger and Aunt Dionysia were 
each for their several ends desirous to have it in the 
late autumn. Coppinger had the impatience of a lover,, 
and Miss Trevisa the desire to be free from a menial 
position, and lodged in her own house before winter set 
in. She had amused herself over Othello Cottage ever 
since that Judith had yielded her consent, and her niece 
saw little of her accordingly. 

It suited Coppinger's interest to have a tenant for 
the solitary cottage, and that a tenant who would 
excite no suspicion, as the house was employed as a 
store for various run goods, and it was understood 
between him and Miss Trevisa that he was still to 
employ the garret for the purposes that suited him. 



A DANGEROUS GIFT. 185. 

Had Othello Cottage remained long unoccupied, it 
was almost certain to attract the attention of the 
Preventive men, awake their suspicions, and be sub- 
jected to a visit. Its position was convenient, it was 
on the cliff of that cove where was the cave in which 
the smugglers' boats were concealed. 

Coppinger visited Polzeath, and saw Judith when- 
ever he came to Mr. Menaida's house, but his wooing 
met with no response. She endured his attentions, 
shrinking from the slightest approach to familiarity, 
and though studiously courteous, was never affectionate. 
It would have taken a heavy charge of self-conceit to 
have made the Captain blind to the fact that she did 
not love him, that, in truth, she viewed her approaching 
marriage with repugnance. Coppinger was a proud, 
but not a conceited, man, and her coldness and aversion 
roused his anger, for it galled his pride. Had he been 
a man of noble impulse, he would have released her, as 
she had plainly told him, but he was too selfish, too 
bent on earning out his own will to think of aban- 
doning his suit. 

Her lack of reciprocation did not abate his passion ; 
it aggravated it. It enlisted his self-esteem in the 



1 84 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

cause, and he would not give her up, because he had 
set his mind upon obtaining her, and to confess his 
defeat would have been a humiliation insufferable to his 
haughty spirit. But it was not merely that he would 
not, it was also that he could not. Coppinger was a 
man who had all his life long done what he willed, till 
his will had become in him the mainspring of his 
existence, and drove him to execute his purposes in 
disregard of reason, safety, justice. What he willed he 
must do. He could not brook opposition. He would 
eat out his own furious heart in impotent rage, if his 
will encountered impossibility of execution. And he 
was of a sanguine temperament. Hitherto every oppo- 
sition had been overthrown before him, therefore he 
could not conceive that the heart of a young girl, a 
mere child, could stand out against him permanently. 
For a while it might resist, but ultimately it must 
yield, and then the surrender would be absolute, un- 
conditional. 

Every time he came to see her, he came with hopes, 
almost with confidence, that the icy barrier would dis- 
solve, but when he was in her presence, the chill from it 
struck him, numbed his heart, silenced his tongue, 



A DANGEROUS GIFT. 185 

deadened his thoughts. Yet no sooner was he gone 
from the house, than his pulses leaped, his brain 
-whirled, and he was consumed with mortified pride and 
disappointed love. He could not be rough, passionate, 
and imperious with her. A something he could not 
understand, certainly not define, streamed from her 
that kept him at a distance and quelled his insolence. 
It was to him at moments as if he hated her ; but this 
hate was but the splutter of frustrated love. He 
recalled the words she had spoken to him, the terms 
she had employed in speaking of the relation in which 
they stood to each other, the only relation to her con- 
ceivable in which they could stand to each other, and 
each such word was a spark of fire, a drop of flaming 
phosphorus on his heart, torturing it with pain, and 
unquenchable. A word once spoken can never be 
recalled, and these words had been thrown red hot at 
him, had sunk in and continued to consume where they 
had fallen. He was but a rapacious bird and she the 
prey, he the fire and she the fuel, he the wrecker and 
she the wreck. There could be no reciprocity between 
them ; the bird in the talons of the hawk, rent by his 
beak, could do no other than shiver and shriek, and 



186 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

struggle to be free. The fuel could but expect to be 
consumed to ashes in the flame; and the wrecked must 
submit to the wrecker. He brooded over these similes,, 
he chafed under the conviction that there was truth in 
them, he fought against the idea that a return of his 
love was impossible — and then his passion raged and 
roared up in a fury that was no other than hatred of 
the woman who could not be his in heart. Then, in 
another moment, he cooled down, and trusted that 
what he dreaded would not be. He saw before him 
the child, white as a lily, with hair as the anthers of 
the lily — so small, so fragile, so weak ; and he laughed 
to think that one such, with no experience of life, one 
who had never tasted love, could prove insensible to- 
his devouring passion. The white asbestos in the 
flame glows, and never loses its delicacy and its- 
whiteness. 

And Judith was, as Jump observed, becoming paler 
and more silent as her marriage drew on. The repug- 
nance with which she had viewed it instead of abating,. 
intensified with every day. She woke in the night 
with a start of horror, and a cold sweat poured from 
her. She clasped her hands over her eyes, and buried 



A DANGEROUS GIFT. 187 

her face in her pillow and trembled, so that the bed- 
rattled. She lost all appetite. Her throat was con- 
tracted when she touched food. She found it im- 
possible to turn her mind to the preparations that were 
being made for her wedding ; she suffered her aunt to* 
order for her what she liked ; she was indifferent when 
told of the blunder made by the dressmaker in her 
wedding-gown. She could not speak at meals. When 
Mr. Menaida began to talk, she seemed to listen, but 
her mind was elsewhere. She resumed lessons with 
Jamie, but was too abstracted to be able to teach 
effectually. A restlessness took hold of her, and im- 
pelled her to be out of doors and alone. Any society 
was painful to her. She could endure only to be alone ; 
and when alone, she did nothing save pluck at her 
dress, or rub her fingers one over the other — the tricks- 
and convulsive movements of one on the verge of 
death. 

But she did not yield to her aversion without an 
effort to accustom herself to the inevitable. She 
rehearsed to herself the good traits she had observed in 
Coppinger, his kindness, his forbearance towards her- 
self. She took cognizance of his efforts to win her 



188 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

regard, to afford her pleasure ; his avoidance of every- 
thing that he thought might displease her. And when 
she knew he was coming to visit her, she strove with 
herself and formed the resolution to break down her 
coldness, and to show T him some of that semblance of 
affection which he might justly expect. But it was in 
vain. No sooner did she hear his step, or the first 
words he uttered — no sooner did she see him, than she 
turned to stone, and the power to even feign an affection 
she did not possess, left her. And when Coppinger had 
departed, there was stamped red hot on her brain the 
conviction that she could not possibly endure life with 
him. 

She prayed long and often, sometimes by her father's 
grave, always in bed when lying wakeful, tossing from 
side to side in anguish of mind, often, very often when 
on the cliffs looking out to sea, to the dark, leaden, 
sullen sea, that had lost all the laughter and colour of 
summer. But prayer afforded her no consolation. 
The thought of marriage to such a man, whom she 
could not respect, whose whole nature was inferior to 
her own, was a thought of horror. She could have 
nerved herself to death by the most excruciating of 



A DANGEROUS GIFT. 189 

torments, but for this — not all the grace of heaven 
could fortify her. 

To be his mate, to be capable of loving him, she 
must descend to his level, and that she neither could 
nor would do. His prey, his fuel, his wreck — that she 
must become, but she could be nothing else — nothing 
else. As the day of her marriage approached, her 
nervous trepidation became so acute that she could 
hardly endure the least noise. A strange footfall 
startled her and threw her into a paroxysm of trembling. 
The sudden opening of a door made her heart stand 
still. 

When her father had died, poignant though her 
sorrow had been, she had enjoyed the full powers of her 
mind. She had thought about the necessary prepara- 
tions for the funeral, she had given orders to the 
servants, she had talked over the dear father to Jamie, 
she had wept his loss till her eyes were red. Not so 
now : she could not turn her thoughts from the all- 
absorbing terror; she could not endure an allusion to it 
from any one, least of all to speak of it to her brother. 
And the power to weep was taken from her. Her eyes 
were dry — they burnt, but were unfilled by tears. 



i 9 o IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

When her father was dead she could look forward, 
think of him in Paradise, and hope to rejoin him after 
having trustily executed the charge imposed on her by 
him. But now she could not look ahead. A shadow 
of horror lay before her, an impenetrable curtain. Her 
father was covering his face, was sunk in grief in his 
celestial abode ; he could not help her. She could not 
go to him with the same open brow and childish smile 
as before. She must creep to his feet, and lay her 
head there, sullied by association with one against 
-whom he had warned her, one whom he had regarded 
as the man that had marred his sacred utility, one who 
stood far below the stage of virtue and culture that 
belonged to his family, and on which he had firmly 
planted his child. What was in her heart Judith 
could pour out before none ; certainly not before Aunt 
Dionysia, devoid of a particle of sympathy with her 
niece. Nor could she speak her trouble to Uncle 
Zachie, a man void of resources, kind, able for 
a minute or two to sympathize, but never to go deeply 
into any trouble, and understand more of a wound than 
the fester on the surface. Besides, of what avail to 
communicate the anguish of her heart to any one, when 



A DANGEROUS GIFT. 191 

nothing could be done to alter the circumstances. 
She could not now draw back. Indeed it never 
occurred to her to be possible to go back from her 
undertaking. To save Jamie from an idiot asylum she 
had passed her word to give her hand at the altar to 
Cruel Coppinger, and her word was sacred. Aunt 
Dionysia trusted her word. Coppinger held to it. 
Knowing that she gave it on compulsion and re- 
luctantly, yet he showed his perfect confidence in its 
security. 

"My dear Judith," said Mr. Menaida, "I am so 
sorry about losing you, and what is more, losing 
Jamie, for I know very well that when he is at the 
Glaze, he will find plenty to amuse him without 
coming to see me, or, anyhow, coming to work with 
me." 

" I hope not, dear uncle." 

" Yes, I lose a promising pupil." Then, turning to 
the boy, he said: ''Jamie, I hope you will not give up 
stuffing birds, or — if you have not the patience to do 
that, that you will secure the skins and prepare them 
for me." 

"Yes, I will," said Jamie. 



192 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Yes, yes, my dear boy," said Menaida ; " but don't 
you fancy I am going to trust you with arsenic for 
preparing the skins. I shall give that to your sister, 
and she will keep the supply, eh ? — will you not 
Judith ? " 

"Yes, I will take charge of it." 

" And let him have it as needed, never more than is 
needed." 

" Why not ? " asked Jamie. 

" Because it is a dangerous thing to have lying 
about." Menaida ran into the workshop, and came 
back with a small tin box of the poison. " Look here ! 
here is a little bone spoon. Don't get the powder over 
your fingers. Why — a spoonful would make a man 
very ill, and two would kill' him. So, Judith, I trust 
this to you. When Jamie has a skin to prepare, he 
will go to you, and you will let him have only so much 
as he requires." 

" Yes uncle." 

She took the little tin of arsenic and put it into her 
work-box, under the tray that contained reels and 
needles. 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 



HALF A MARRIAGE, 



One request Judith had made, relative to her 
marriage, and one only, after she had given way 
about the time when it was to take place, and this 
request concerned the place. She desired to be 
married, not in the parish church of S. Minver, 
but in that of S. Enodoc, in the yard of which lay 
her father and mother, and in which her father had 
occasionally ministered. 

It was true that no great display could be made in 
a building half filled with sand, but neither Judith nor 
Coppinger, nor Aunt Dionysia desired display, and 
Jump, the sole person who wished that the wedding 
should be in full gala, was not consulted in the 
matter. 

vol. ii. 14 



l 9 4 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

November scowled over sea and land, perverting the 
former into lead, and blighting the latter to a dingy 
brown. 

The wedding day was sad. Mist enveloped the 
coast, wreathed the cliffs, drifted like smoke over the 
glebe, and lay upon the ocean dense and motionless, 
like a mass of cotton wool. Not a smile of sun, not 
a glimmer of sky, not a trace of outline in the haze 
over head. The air was full of minute particles of 
moisture, flying aimlessly, lost to all sense of gravity, 
in every direction. The mist had a fringe but no 
seams, and looked as if it were as unrendable as felt. 
It trailed over the soil, here lifting a ragged flock or 
tag of fog a few feet above the earth, there dropping it 
again, and smearing water over all it touched. 

Vapour condensed on every twig and leaf, but only 
leisurely, and slowly dripped from the ends of thorns 
and of leaves, but the weight of the w r ater on some of 
the frosted and sickly foliage brought the leaves down 
with it. Every stone in every wall was lined with 
trickles of water like snail crawls. The vapour 
penetrated within doors, and made all articles damp, 
of whatever sort they were. Fires were reluctant to 



HALF A MARRIAGE. 195 

kindle, chimneys smoked. The grates and irons broke 
•out into eruptions of rust, mildew appeared on walls, 
leaks in roofs. The slate floors became dark and 
moist. Forks and spoons adhered to the hands of 
those who touched them, and on the keys of Mr. 
Menaida's piano drops formed. 

What smoke did escape from a chimney trailed 
down the roof. Decomposed leaves exhaled the 
scent of decay. From every stackyard came a musty 
odour of wet straw and hay. Stableyards emitted 
their most fetid exudations, that oozed through the 
gates and stained the roads. The cabbages in the 
kailyards, touched by frost, announced that they were 
in decomposition, and the turnips that they were in 
rampant degeneration and rottenness. The very sea- 
weed, washed ashore, impregnated the mist with the 
flavour of decay. 

The new rector, the Reverend Desiderius Mules, had 
been in residence at S. Enodoc for three months. He 
had received but a hundred and twenty-seven pounds 
four and ninepence farthing for dilapidations, and was 
angry, declared himself cheated, and vowed he would 
never employ the agent Cargreen any more. And 



196 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

a hundred and twenty-seven pounds four and ninepence 
farthing went a very little way towards repairing and 
altering the rectory to make it habitable to the liking of 
the Reverend Desiderius. The Reverend Peter Trevisa 
and his predecessors had been West Country men, and 
as such loved the sun, and chose to have the best 
rooms of the house with a southern aspect. But the 
Reverend Desiderius Mules had been reared in Barba- 
does, and hated the sun, and elected to have the best 
rooms of the house to look north. This entailed great 
alterations. The kitchen had to be converted into a 
parlour, and the parlour into a kitchen, the dining-room 
into a scullery, the scullery into a study, and the library 
enlarged to serve as a dining-room. All the downstair 
windows had to be altered. Mr. Desiderius Mules 
liked to have French windows opening to the ground. 
In the same manner great transformations were 
made in the garden. Where Mr. Peter Trevisa had 
built up and planted a hedge, there Mr. Desiderius 
Mules opened a gate, and where the late rector had 
laid down a drive there the new rector made garden 
beds. In the same manner shrubberies were converted 
into lawns and lawns into shrubberies. The pump 



HALF A MARRIAGE. 197 

was now of no service outside the drawing-room 
window, it had to be removed to the other side of 
the house, and to serve the pump with water a new 
well had to be dug, and the old well that had furnished 
limpid and wholesome water was filled up. The site 
of the conservatory was considered the proper one for 
the new well, and this entailed the destruction of the 
conservatory, removal was intended, with a new aspect, 
to the north, as a frigidarium ; but when touched it 
fell to pieces, and in so doing furnished Mr. Desiderius 
Mules with much comment on the imposition to which 
he had been subjected, for he had taken this con- 
servatory at a valuation, and that valuation had been 
for three pounds seven and fourpence half-penny, 
whereas the real value of the conservatory was, so he 
declared, three pounds seven and fourpence without the 
half-penny at the end or the three pounds. 

When the Reverend Desiderius Mules heard that 
Captain Coppinger and Judith Trevisa were to be 
married in his church, "By Jove," said he, "they 
shall pay me double fees, as extra parochial. I shall 
get that out of them at all events. I have been 
choused sufficiently." 



198 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

A post-chaise from Wadebridge conveyed Judith, 
Miss Trevisa, Uncle Zachie, and Jamie from Polzeattu 

The bride was restless. At one moment she leaned 
back, then forward, her eyes turned resolutely through 
the window at the fog. Her hands plucked at her 
veil, or at her gloves, she spoke not a word throughout 
the drive ; Aunt Dionysia was also silent. Opposite 
her sat Mr. Menaida in blue coat with brass buttons,, 
white waistcoat outside a coloured one, and white 
trousers tightly strapped. Though inclined to talk,, 
he was unable to resist the depressing influence of his 
vis-a-vis, Miss Trevisa, who sat scowling at him, with 
her thin lips closed. Jamie was excited, but as no one 
answered him when he spoke, he also lapsed into 
silence. 

When the churchyard gate of S. Enodoc was 
reached, Mr. Menaida jumped out of the chaise with 
a sigh of relief, and muttered to himself that had he 
known what to expect he would have brought his 
pocket-flask with him, and have had a nip of cognac 
on the way. 

A goodly number of sightseers had assembled from 
Polzeath and S. Enodoc, and stood in the churchyard 



HALF A MARRIAGE. 199 

magnified by the mist to gigantic size. Over the 
graves of drowned sailors were planted the figure- 
heads of wrecked vessels, and these in the mist might 
have been taken as the dead risen and mingling with 
the living to view this dreary marriage. 

The bride herself looked ghostlike, or as a waft of the 
fog but little condensed, blown through the graveyard 
towards the gap in the church wall, and blown through 
that also to the altar within. 

That gap was usually blocked with planks from 
a wreck, supported by beams ; when the church was 
to be put in requisition, then the beams were knocked 
away, whereupon down clattered the boards and they 
were tossed aside. It had been so done on this 
occasion, and the fragments were heaped untidily 
about among the graves under the church wall. 
The clerk-sexton had, indeed, considered that morning, 
with his hands in his pockets, whether it would be 
worth his while, assisted by the five bell-ringers, to 
take this accumulation of wreckage and pile it together 
out of sight, but he had thought that, owing to the fog, 
a veil would be drawn over the disorder, and he might 
be saved this extra trouble. 



200 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

Within the sacred building, over his boots in sand, 
stamped and fumed, and paced and growled, the 
Reverend Desiderius Mules, in surplice, hood, and 
stole, very ill at ease and out of humour because the 
wedding party arrived unpunctually, and he feared he 
,might catch cold from the wind and fog that drifted in 
through the hole in the wall serving as door. 

The sand within was level with the sills of the 
windows, it cut the tables of Commandments in half, 
had blotted away the majority of inhibitions against 
marriage within blood relationship and marriage kin- 
ship. The altar rails were below the surface. The 
altar table had been fished up, and set against the east 
wall, not on this day for the marriage, but at some 
previous occasion. Then the sexton had placed two 
pieces of slate under the feet on one side, and not 
having found handy any other pieces, had thought that 
perhaps it did not matter. Consequently the two legs 
on one side had sunk in the sand, and the altar table 
formed an incline. 

A vast number of bats occupied the church, and by 
day hung like little moleskin purses from the roof. 
Complaints had been made of the disagreeableness of 



HALF A MARRIAGE. 201 

having these creatures suspended immediately over the 
head of the officient, accordingly the sexton had 
knocked away such as dangled immediately above 
the altar and step — or place where the step was, 
beneath the sand ; but he did not think it necessary to 
disturb those in other parts of the church. If they 
inconvenienced others it was the penalty of curiosity, 
coming to see a wedding there. Towards the west end 
of the church some wooden pew tops stood above the 
sand, and stuck into a gimlet hole in the top rail o 
one was a piece of holly, dry and brown as a chip. It 
had been put there as a Christmas decoration the last 
year that the church was used for divine worship at 
the feast of Noel ; when that was only the oldest men 
could remember. The sexton had looked at it several 
times, with his hands in his pockets, and considered 
whether it were worth while pulling his hands out 
and removing the withered fragment, and carrying it 
outside the church, but had arrived at the conclusion that 
it injured no one, and might therefore just as well remain. 
There were fragments of stained glass in the 
windows, in the upper lights of the perpendicular 
windows saints and angels in white and gold, on ruby 



202 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

and blue grounds. In one window a fragment of 
a Christ on the cross. But all were much obscured by 
cobwebs. These cobwebs, after having entangled many 
flies, caught and retained many particles of sand,, 
became impervious to light, and obscured the figures 
in the painted glass. The sexton had looked at these 
cobwebs occasionally, and mused whether it would be 
worth his while to sweep them down, but as he knew 
that the church was rarely used for divine offices, and 
never for regular divine worship, he deemed that there 
was no crying necessity for their destruction. Life was 
short, and time might be better employed — to wit : in 
talking to a neighbour, in smoking a pipe, in drinking 
a pint of ale, in larruping his wife, in reading the paper. 
Consequently the cobwebs remained. 

Had Mr. Desiderius Mules been possessed of anti- 
quarian tastes, he might have occupied the time he was 
kept waiting in studying the bosses of carved oak that 
adorned the waggon-roof of the church, which were in 
some cases quaint, in the majority beautiful, and no 
two the same. And he might have puzzled out the 
meaning of three rabbits with only three ears between 
them, forming a triangle, or three heads united in one 



HALF A MARRIAGE. 203 

neck, a king and queen, a bishop and a monk, or of a 
sow suckling a dozen little pigs. But Mr. Desiderius 
Mules had no artistic or archaeological faculty de- 
veloped in him. His one object on the present 
occasion was to keep draught and damp from the crown 
of his head, where the hair was so scanty as hardly to 
exist at all. He did not like to assume his hat in the 
consecrated building, so he stamped about in the sand r 
holding a red banana handkerchief on the top of his 
head, and grumbling at the time he was kept waiting, 
at the Cornish climate, at the way in which he had 
been " choused " in the matter of dilapidations for the 
chancel of the church, at the unintelligible dialect of 
the people, and at a good many other causes of irrita- 
tion, notably at a bat which had not reverenced his 
bald pate when he ventured beyond the range of the 
sexton's sweeping. 

Presently the clerk, who was outside, thrust in his 
head through the gap in the wall, and in a stage- 
whisper announced, " They's a-coming." 

The Reverend Mules growled, " There ought to be a 
right to charge extra when the parson is kept waiting ; 
sixpence a minute, not a penny less. But we are 



204 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

choused in this confounded corner of the world in 
every way. Hah ! there is a mildew spot on my stole 
— all come of this villainous damp." 

In the tower stood five men, ready to pull the ropes 
and sound a merry peal when the service was over, and 
earn a guinea. They had a firkin of ale in a corner, 
with which to moisten their clay between each round. 
Now that they heard that the wedding party had 
arrived they, spat on their hands and heaved their 
legs out of the sand. 

Through the aperture in the wall entered the bridal 
party, a cloud of fog blowing in with them and en- 
veloping them. They stepped laboriously through the 
fine sand, at this place less firm than elsewhere, having 
been dug into daily by the late rector in his futile efforts 
to clear the church. 

Mr. Mules cast a suspicious look at the rafters 
above him to see that no profane bat was there, and 
opened his book. 

Mr. Menaida was to act as father to the bride, and 
there was no other bridesmaid than Miss Trevisa. As 
they waded towards the altar Judith's strength failed, 
.and she stood still. Then Uncle Zachie put his arm 



HALF A MARRIAGE. 209 

round her, and half carried her over the sand towards 
the place where she must stand to give herself away. 
She turned her head and thanked him with her eyes, 
she could not speak. So deathly was her whiteness, so 
deficient in life did she seem, that Miss Trevisa looked 
at her with some anxiety, and a little doubt whether 
she would be able to go through the service. 

When Judith reached her place her eyes rested on 
the sand. She did not look to her left side, she could 
heai* no steps, for the sand muffled all sound of feet,. 
but she knew by the cold shudder that thrilled through 
her that Captain Coppinger was at her side. 

" Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here — 
now, then, order if you please, and quiet ; we'are twenty- 
five minutes after time," said Mr. Desiderius Mules. 

The first few words, seven in all, were addressed to 
the wedding party, the rest to a number of men and 
women and children who were stumbling and plunging 
into the church through the improvised door, thrusting 
each other forward, with a " Get along," and " Out of 
the road," all eager to secure a good sight of the cere- 
mony, and none able to hurry to a suitable place be- 
cause of the sand that impeded every step. 



2o6 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Now, then, I can't stay here all day ! " 

Mr. Mules sniffed, and applied the banana to his 
nose, as an indication that he was chilled, and that his 
rheum would be on the heads of the congregation 
were he made ill by this delay. 

" Dearly beloved, we are gathered," he began again, 
and he was now able to proceed. " Curll," said he, in 
loud and emphatic tones, " wilt thou have this woman 
to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's 
ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony ? Wilt thou 
love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness 
and in health ; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only 
unto her so long as ye both shall live ? " 

The response of Coppinger went through the heart 
of Judith like a knife. Then the rector addressed her. 
For answer she looked up at him and moved her lips. 
He took her hand and placed it in that of Coppinger. 
It was cold as ice, and quivering like an aspen leaf. 
As Captain Coppinger held it it seemed to drag and 
become heavy in his hand, whilst he pronounced the 
words after the rector, making oath to take Judith as 
his own. Then the same words were recited' to her, 
for her to repeat in order after the priest. She began, 



HALF A MARRIAGE. 207 

she moved her lips, looked him pleadingly in the face, 
her head swam, the fog filled the whole church and 
settled between her and the rector. She felt nothing 
save the grip of Coppinger's hand, and sank unconscious 
to the ground. 

" Go forward," said Cruel. 

Mr. Menaida and Aunt Dionysia caught Judith and 
held her up. She could neither speak nor stir. Her 
lips were unclosed ; she seemed to be gasping for breath 
like one drowning. 

" Go on,'' persisted Cruel ; and holding her left hand 
he thrust the ring on her fourth finger, repeating the 
words of the formula. 

" I cannot proceed," said the Reverend Desi- 
derius. 

" Then you will have to come again to-morrow." 

" She is unconscious," objected the rector. 

" It is momentary only," said Aunt Dionysia ; " be 
quick and finish." 

Mr. Mules hesitated a moment. He had no wish to 
return in like weather on another day ; no wish again 
to be kept waiting five and twenty minutes. He 
rushed at the remainder of the office and concluded it 
at a hand gallop. 



208 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

"Now," said he, "the registers are at the rectory. 
Come there." 

Coppinger looked at Judith. 

" Not to-day. It is not possible. She is ill — faint. 
To-morrow. Neither she nor I, nor the witnesses, will 
run away. We will come to you to-morrow." 

Uncle Zachie offered to assist Judith from the 
church. 

" No," said Cruel, peremptorily, " she is mine now." 

With assistance she was able to walk. She seemed 
to recover for a moment in the air outside, but again 
lapsed into faintness on being placed in the chaise. 

"To Pentyre Glaze," ordered Coppinger; "our 
home." 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 



A BREAKFAST. 



" She has been over exerted and over excited," said 
Miss Trevisa. "Leave her to recover; in a few days 
she will be herself again. Remember, her father died 
of heart complaint, and though Judith resembles her 
mother rather than a Trevisa, she may have inherited 
from my brother just that one thing she had better 
have let him carry to his grave with him." 

So Judith was given the little room that adjoined her 
aunt's, and Miss Trevisa postponed for a week her 
migration to Othello Cottage. 

Aunt Dionysia was uneasy about her niece ; perhaps 
her conscience did suffer from some qualms when she 
saw how Judith shrank from the union she had driven 

vol. II. 15 



210 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

her into for her own selfish convenience. She treated 
her in the wisest manner now she had brought her to 
the Glaze, for she placed her in her old room next her 
own, and left her there to herself. Judith could hear 
her aunt walking about and muttering in the adjoining 
chamber, and was content to be alone to recover her 
composure and strength. 

Uncle Zachie and Jump were, however, in sore dis- 
tress. They had made the twin cottage ready, had 
prepared a wedding breakfast, engaged a helping hand 
or two, and no one had come to partake. Nor was Mr. 
Desiderius Mules in a cheerful mood. He had been 
invited to the breakfast, and was hungry and cold. 
He had to wait whilst Mr. Menaida ran up to Pentyre 
to know whether any one was going to honour his 
board. Whilst he was away the rector stamped about 
the parlour, growling that he believed he was about to 
be " choused out of his breakfast. There was really 
no knowing what these people in this out-of-the-world 
corner might do." Then he pulled off his boots and 
shook the sand out, rang for Jump, and asked at what 
hour precisely the breakfast was to be eaten, and 
whether it was put on table to be looked at only. 



A BREAKFAST. 211 

From Pentyre Glaze Mr. Menaida was not greatly 
successful in obtaining guests. He found some wild- 
looking men there in converse with Coppinger, men 
whom he knew by rumour to belong to a class that had 
no ostensible profession and means of living. 

Air. Menaida had ordered in clotted cream, which 
would not keep sweet many days. It ought to be 
•eaten at once. He inquired whether Coppinger, 
the bride, Miss Trevisa, any one was coming to 
his house to consume the clotted cream. As Jamie 
was drifting about purposeless, and he alone seemed 
•disposed to accompany Uncle Zachie, the old gentleman 
carried him off. 

" I s'pose I can't on the spur of the moment go in 
and ask our S. Minver parson ? " asked Menaida, 
dubiously, of the S. Enodoc parson. " You see, I dare 
say he's hurt not to have had the coupling of 'em 
himself." 

" Most certainly not,'' said Mr. Mules ; " an appetite 
is likely to go into faintness unless attended to at once. 
I know that the coats of my stomach are honeycombed 
with gastric juice. Shall I say grace? Another half- 
hour of delay will finish me." 



2i2 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

Consequently but three persons sat down to a 
plentiful meal, but some goose, cold, had hardly been 
served, when in came Mr. Scantlebray, the agent, with 
a cheery salutation of — 

" Hulloa, Menaida, old man ! What, eating and 1 
drinking ? I'll handle a knife and fork with you — 
unasked. Beg pardon, Mr. Mules. I'm a rough man, 
and an old acquaintance of our good friend here ; hope 
I see you in the enjoyment of robust health, sir ! Ah I 
Menaida, old man ! I didn't expect such a thing as 
this. Now I begin to see daylight, and understand 
why I was turned out of the valuership, and why my 
brother lost this promising young pupil. Ah, ha ! my 
man, you have been deprived of fun, such fun, roaring 
fun, by not being with my brother Scanty. Weil, sir " 
— to Mr. Mules — " what was the figure of the valuation? 
You had a queer man on your side. I pity you. A 
man I wouldn't trust myself. I name no names. Now 
tell me, what did you get ? " 

"A hundred and twenty-seven pounds four and nine- 
pence farthing. Monstrous — a chouse ! " 

" As you say, monstrous. Why, that chancel ! Show 
me the builder who will contract to do that alone at a 



A BREAKFAST. 213 

hundred and twenty-seven pounds? And the repairs 
of the rectory, are they to be reckoned at four and nine- 
pence farthing ? It is a swindle ! I'd appeal. I'd 
refuse. You made a mistake, sir, let me tell you, in 
falling into certain hands. Yes, I'll have some goose, 
thank you." 

Mr. Scantlebray ate heartily, so did the Reverend 
Desiderius, who had the honeycomb cells of his 
stomach coats to fill. Both, moreover, did justice to 
Mr. Menaida's wine, they did not spare it ; why should 
they ? Those for whom the board was spread had not 
troubled to come to it, and they must make amends for 
their neglect. 

"Horrible weather!" said the rector. " I suppose 
this detestable sort of stuff of which the atmosphere is 
composed is the prevailing abomination one has to 
inhale throughout three-quarters of the year. One can- 
not see three yards before one." 

" It's bad for some and good for others," answered 
Scantlebray. " There'll be wrecks, certainly, after this, 
especially if we get, as we are pretty sure to get, a wind 
on shore." 

" Wrecks ! " exclaimed the rector. " And pray who 



214 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

pays the fees for drowned men I may be expected to 
bury ? " 

"The parish/' answered Uncle Zachie. 

"Oh, half-a-crown a head," said Mr. Mules, con- 
temptuously. 

" There are other things to be had out of a wreck be- 
sides burial fees," said Scantlebray. " But you must be 
down early before the coastguard are there. Have you 
donkies ? " 

"Donkies! What for?" 

" I have one — a grey beauty," exclaimed Jamie. 
"Captain Coppinger gave her to me." 

" Well, young man, then you pick up what you can, 
when you have the chance, and lade her with your find- 
ings. You'll pick up something better than corpses., 
and make something more than burial half-crowns." 

"But why do you suppose there will be wrecks ? "" 
inquired the rector of S. Enodoc. "There is no 
storm." 

" No storm, certainly ; but there is fog, and in the fog 
vessels coming up the Channel to Bristol get lost as to 
their bearings, get near our cliffs without knowing it, 
and then — if a wind from the west springs up and blows 



A BREAKFAST. 2i£ 

rough — they are done for ; they can't escape to the 
open. That's it, old man. I beg your reverence's 
pardon, I mean sir. When I said that such weather 
was bad for some and good for others, you can under- 
stand me now — bad for the wrecked, good for the 
wreckers." 

" But, surely, you have no wreckers here ? " 

Mr. Scantlebray laughed. " Go and tell the bride- 
groom that you think so. I'll let you into the knowledge 
of one thing" — he winked over his glass; — " there's a 
fine merchantman on her way to Bristol." 

" How do you know ? " 

" Know ! Because she was sighted off S. Ives, and 
the tidings has run up the coast like fire among heather. 
I don't doubt it that the tidings has reached Hartland 
by this; and, with a thick fog like to-day, there are a 
thousand hearts beating with expectation. Who can 
say ? She may be laden with gold dust from Africa, 
or with tin from Barca, or with port from Oporto." 

" My boy Oliver is coming home," said Mr. 
Menaida. 

"Then let's hope he is not in this vessel, for, old 
man, she stands a bad chance in such weather as this. 



216 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

There is Porth-quin, and there is Hayle Bay ready to 
receive her, or Doom Bar, on which she may run, all 
handy for our people. Are you anything of a sports- 
man, sir ? " 

"A little; but I don't fancy there is much in this 
precious country — no cover." 

" What is fox-hunting when you come to consider, 
^or going after a snipe or a partridge ? A fox ! — it's 
naught, the brush stinks ; and a snipe is but a mouthful. 
My dear sir, if you come to live among us, you must 
seek your sport not on the land, but at sea. You'll find 
the sport worth something when you get a haul of a 
barrel of first-rate sherry, or a load of silver ingots. 
Why, that's how Penwarden bought his farm. He got 
the money after a storm — drew it on the shore out of 
the pocket of a dead man. Do you know why the bells 
of S. Enodoc are so sweet ? Because, so folks say, 
melted into them are ingots of Peruvian silver, from a 
ship wrecked on Doom Bar." 

" I should like to get some silver or gold," said Jamie. 

" I daresay you would ; and so perhaps you may if 
you look out for it. Go to your good friend, Captain 
Coppinger, and tell him what you want. He has made 



A BREAKFAST. 217 

his pickings before now, on shore and off wrecks, and 
has not given up the practice." 

" But," said Mr. Mules, " do you mean to tell me 
that you Cornish people in this benighted corner of 
the world live like sharks, upon whatever is cast over- 
board." 

11 Xo, I do not," answered Scantlebray. " We have 
too much energy and intelligence for that. We don't 
always wait till it is cast overboard ; we go aboard and 
take what we want." 

" What, steal ! " 

" I don't call that stealing, supposing as how Provi- 
dence and a south-west wind throws a ship into our 
laps, when we put in our fingers and pick out the 
articles we want. What are Porth-quin and Hayle 
Bay but our laps, in which lie the wrecks heaven sends 
us? And Doom Bar, what is that but a counter, on 
which the good things are spread, and those first there 
get the first share ? " 

" And pray," said Mr. Desiderius Mules, " have the 
owners of the vessels, the passengers, the captains, no 
objections to make ? " 

"They are not there — don't wait for our people. 



2i8 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

If they do -so much the worse for them." Then 
Scantlebray laughed. " There's a good story told of 
the Zenobia, lost four years ago. There was a lady on 
board. When she knew the vessel was on Doom Bar 
she put on all her jewellery, to escape with it ; but some 
of our people got to the wreck. before she went off it, and 
one lobe of her ears was torn off." 

"Torn off!" 

"Yes, in pulling the earrings off her." 

" But who pulled the earrings off her ? " 

" Our people." 

"Gracious heavens! Were they not brought to 
justice ? " 

" Who did it ? No one knew. What became of the 
jewellery ? No one knew. All that was known was that 
Lady Knighton — that was her name — lost her diamonds-, 
and the lobe of her right ear as well." 

" And it was never recovered ? " 

"What! the lobe of her ear?" 

" No, the jewellery." 

" Never." 

"Upon my word, I have got among a parcel of 
scoundrels ! It was high time that I should come and 



A BREAKFAST. 219. 

reform them. I'll set to work at once. I'll have S. 
Enodoc dug out and restored ; and I'll soon put an end 
to this sort of thing." 

" You think so? " 

" You don't know me. I'll have a bazaar. I'll have 
a ball in the Assembly rooms at Wadebridge. The 
church shall be excavated. I'm not going in there 
again with the bats, and to have my boots filled with 
sand, I can tell you. Everything shall be renovated 
and put to rights. I'll see to it at once. I'll have a 
pigeon-shooting for the sake of my chancel — I dare say 
I shall raise twenty pounds by that alone — and a raffle 
for the font, and an Aunt Sally for the pulpit. But the 
ball will be the main thing. I'll send and get the county 
people to patronize. I'll do it, and you barbarians in 
this benighted corner of the world shall see there is a 
man of energy among you.'' 

" You'd best try your hand on a wreck. You'll get 
more off that." 

" And I'll have a bran pie for an altar table." 

" You won't get the parishioners to do anything for 
the restoration of the church. They don't want to have 
it restored." 



220 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" The Decalogue is rotten. I run my umbrella 
through the Ten Commandments this morning. I'll 
have a gipsy-camp and fortune-telling to furnish me 
with new Commandments. " 

"I've heard tell," said Scantlebray, "that at Poug- 
hill, near Stratton, is a four-post bed of pure gold, come 
off a wreck in Bude Bay." z 

" When I was up in the north," said the rector of S. 
Enodoc, " w r e had a savage who bit off the heads of 
rats, snap, and ate them raw, and charged sixpence 
entrance ; but that was for the missionaries. I should 
hardly advocate that for the restoration of a church ; 
besides, where is the savage to be got ? We made 
twenty-seven pounds by that man ; but expenses were 
heavy, and swallowed up twenty-five ; we sent two 
pounds to the missionaries." 

Mr. Menaida stood up and went to the window. 

" I believe the wind has shifted to the north, and we 
shall have a lightening of the fog after sunset." 

" Shall we not have a wreck ? I hope there'll be 
one," said Jamie. 

1 An exaggeration. The bed, of 17th Century Italian work, is 
gilt. It is now in a small farmhouse. 



A BREAKFAST. 22 r 

"What is the law about wreckage, Menaida, old 
man ? " asked Scantlebray, also coming to the 
window. 

" The law is plain enough : no one has a right to 
goods come to land; he who finds may claim salvage — ■ 
naught else ; and any person taking goods cast ashore, 
which are not legal wreck, may be punished." 

" And," said Scantlebray, " what if certain persons 
give occasion to a ship being wrecked, and then plunder- 
ing the wreck ? " 

"There the law is also plain: the invading and 
robbing of a vessel, either in distress or when wrecked, 
and the putting forth of false lights, in order to bring 
a vessel into danger, are capital felonies." 

Scantlebray went to the table, took up a napkin, 
twisted it, and then flung it round his neck, and hung 
his head on one side. 

"What — this, Menaida, old man ? " 

Uncle Zachie nodded. 

" Come here, Jim, my boy. A word with you out- 
side." Scantlebray led Jamie into the road. "There's 
been a shilling owing you for some time. We had 
roaring fun about it once. Here it is. Now listen to 



222 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

me. Go to Pentyre. You want to find gold dust on 
the shore, don't you ? " 

"Yes." 

" Or bars of silver." 

"Yes." 

" Well, beg Captain Coppinger, if he is going to have 
a Jack o' Lantern to-night, to let you be the Jack. Do 
you understand ? And mind — not a word about me. 
Then — gold dust and bars of silver and purses of 
shillings. Mind you ask to be Jack o' Lantern. It 
as fun ! — such fun ! — roaring fun." 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

JACK O' LANTERN. 

Evening closed in. Judith had been left entirely to 
herself. She sat in the window, looking out into the 
mist, and watching the failing of the light. Sometimes 
she opened the casement, and allowed the vapour to 
blow in like cold steam, then became chilled, shivered, 
and closed it again. The wind was rising, and piped 
about the house, whistled at her window. Judith, sit- 
ting there, tried with her hand to find the orifice through 
which the blast drove, and then amused herself with 
playing with her finger-tops on the opening, and regu- 
lating the whistle so as to form a tune. She fre- 
quently heard Coppinger's voice in conversation, 
sometimes in the hall, sometimes in the courtyard, but 
could not catch what was spoken. She listened with 



224 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

childish curiosity to the voice that was now that of her 
lord and husband, and endeavoured to riddle out of it 
some answer to her questions as to what sort of a 
master he would prove. She could not comprehend 
him. She had heard stories told of him that made her 
deem him the worst of men : remorseless and regard- 
less of others, yet towards her he had proved gentle 
and considerate. What, for instance, could be more 
delicate and thoughtful that his behaviour to her at 
this very time ? Feeling that she had married him 
with reluctance, he kept away from her, and suffered 
her to recover her composure without affording her 
additional struggle. A reaction after the strain on her 
nerves set in ; the step she had dreaded had been taken, 
and she was the wife of the man she feared and did not 
love. The suspense of expectation was exchanged for 
the calmer grief of retrospect. 

The fog all day had been white as wool, and she had 
noticed how parcels of vapour had been caught and 
entangled in the thorn bushes, as the fog swept by, very 
much as sheep left flocks of their fleeces in the bushes 
when they broke out of a field. Now that the day set, 
the vapour lost its whiteness and became ash-grey, but 



JACK a LANTERX. 225 

it was not so dense as it had been, or rather it was 
compacted in places into thick masses, with clear tracts 
between. The sea was not visible, nor the cliffs, but 
she could distinguish outbuilding, tufts of furze, and 
hedges. The wind blew much stronger, and she could 
hear the boom of the waves against the rocks, like the 
throbbing of the unseen heart of the world. It was 
louder than it had been. The sound did not come upon 
the wind, for the fog, that muffled all objects from sight, 
muffled also all sounds to the ear, but the boom camefrom 
the vibration of the land. The sea, flung against the 
coast-line, shook the rocks, and they quivered for a far 
distance inland, making every wall and tree quiver also ; 
and the sound of the sea was heard, not through the 
ears, but through the soles of the feet. 

Miss Trevisa came in. 

" Shall I light you a pair of candles, Judith ? " 

" I thank you, hardly yet." 

" And will you not eat ? " 

" Yes, presently, when supper is served." 

" You will come downstairs ? " 

" Yes." 

" I am glad to hear that." 

VOL. II. l6 



226 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Aunt, I thought you were going to Othello Cottage 
the day I came here ? " 

" Captain Coppinger will not suffer me to leave at 
once, till you have settled down to your duties as mis- 
tress of the house." 

" Oh, auntie, I shall never be able to manage this 
large establishment ! " 

" Why not ? You managed that at the rectory." 

" Yes, but it was entirely different." 

" How so ? " 

" My dear papa's requirements were so simple, and 
so few, and there were no men about except poor Bal- 
hachet, and he was a dear, good old humbug. Here, 
I don't know how many men there are, and who belong 
to the house, and who do not. They are in one day 
and out the next ; and then Captain Coppinger is not 
like my own darling papa." 

" No, indeed he is not. Shall I light the candles ? 
I have something to show you." 

" As you will, aunt." 

Miss Trevisa went into her room and fetched a light, 
and kindled the two candles that stood on Judith's 
dressing-table. 



JACK a LANTERN. 227 

44 Oh, aunt ! not three candles." 

" Why not ? We shall need light." 

" But three candles together bring ill-luck; and we 
have had enough already." 

" Pshaw ! Don't be a fool. I want light, for I have 
something to show you." 

She opened a small box and drew forth a brooch and 
•earrings, that flashed in the rays of the candles. 

" Look, child, they are yours ! Captain Coppinger 
has given them to you. They are diamonds. See — a 
butterfly for the breast, and two little butterflies for 
the ears." 

" Oh, auntie, not for me ! I do not want them." 

" This is ungracious. I dare say they cost many 
hundreds of pounds. They are diamonds." 

Judith took the brooch and earrings in her hand ; 
they sparkled. The diamonds were far from being 
brilliants, they were of good size and purest water. 

" I really do not wish to have them. Persuade Cap- 
tain Coppinger to return them to the jeweller ; it is far 
too costly a gift for me, far, far. I should be happier 
without them." Then suddenly — " I do not know that 
they have been bought. Oh, Aunt Dunes, tell me 



22S IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

truly. Have they been bought ? I think jewellers 
always send out their goods in leather cases, and there 
is none such for these. And see, this earring, the gold 
is bent, as if pulled out of shape. I am sure they have 
not been bought. Take them back again, I pray you." 

" You little fool ! " said Miss Trevisa, angrily. " I 
will do nothing of the kind. If you refuse them, then 
take them back yourself. Captain Coppinger performs 
a generous and kind act that costs him much money, 
and you throw his gift in his face ; you insult him. 
Insult him yourself with your suspicions and refusals — • 
you have already behaved to him outrageously. I will 
do nothing for you that you ask. Your father put on 
me a task that is hateful, and I wish I were clear of 
it." 

Then she bounced out of the room, leaving: her 
candle burning along with the other two. 

A moment later she came back hastily and closed 
Judith's shutters. 

"Oh, leave them open," pleaded Judith. " I shall 
like to see how the night goes — if the fog clears away.'* 

"No, I will not," answered Miss Trevisa, roughly, 
" And mind you, these shutters remain shut, or your 



JACK 0' LANTERN. 229 

candles go out. Your window commands the sea, and 
the light of your window must not show." 

" Why not ? " 

" Because should the fog lift, it would be seen by 
vessels." 

" Why should they not see it ? " 

" You are a fool. Obey, and ask no questions." 

Miss Trevisa put up the bar, and then retired with 
the candle, leaving Judith to her own thoughts, with 
the diamonds on the table before her. 

Her thoughts were reproachful of herself. She was 
ungracious, and perhaps unjust also. Her husband 
had sent her a present of rare value, and she was dis- 
posed to reject it, and charge him with not having 
come by the diamonds honestly. They were not new 
from a jeweller ; but what of that ? Could he afford to 
buy her a set at the price of some hundreds of pounds ? 
And because he had not obtained them from a jeweller, 
did it follow that he had taken them unlawfully ? He 
might have picked them up on the shore, or have 
bought them from a man who had. He might have 
obtained them at a sale in the neighbourhood. They 
might be family jewels, that had belonged to his 



230 IN THE BOAR OF THE SEA. 

mother, and he was showing her the highest honour a 
man could show a woman in asking her to wear the 
ornaments that had belonged to his mother. 

He had exhibited to her a store-room full of beauti- 
ful things, but these might be legitimately his, brought 
from foreign countries by his ship the Black Prince. 
It was possible that they were not contraband articles. 

Judith opened her door and went downstairs. In the 
hall she found Coppinger with two or three men, but 
the moment he saw her he started up, came to meet her, 
and drew her aside into a parlour, then went back into 
the hall and fetched candles. A fire was burning in 
this room, ready for her, should she condescend to use 
it. 

" I hope I have not interrupted you," she said, 
timidly. 

"An agreeable interruption. At any time you have 
only to show yourself and I will at once come to you, 
and never ask to be dismissed." 

She knew that this was no empty compliment, that 
he meant it from the depth of his heart, and was sorry 
that she could not respond to an affection so deep and 
so sincere. 



JACK 0' LANTERX. 231 

" You have been very good to me, more good than I 
deserve," she said, standing by the fire, with lowered 
eyes. " I must thank you now for a splendid and beau- 
tiful present, and I really do not know how to find words 
in which fittingly to acknowledge it." 

" You cannot thank and gratify me better than by 
wearing what I have given you." 

" But when ? Surely not on an ordinary evening ? " 

" No, certainly. The rector has been up this after- 
noon and desired to see you ; he is hot on a scheme for 
a public ball to be given at Wadebridge for the restora- 
tion of his church, and he has asked that you will be a 
patroness." 

" I— oh— I ! after my father's death ? " 

" That was in the late spring, and now it is the early 
winter ; besides, now you are a married lady — and was 
not the digging out and restoring of the church your 
father's strong desire ? " 

"Yes ; but he would never have had a ball for such a 
purpose." 

" The money must be raised somehow, so I promised 
for you. You could not well refuse ; he was impatient 
to be off to Wadebridge and secure the assembly rooms." 



232 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA 

"But, Captain Coppinger " 

" Captain Coppinger ? " 

Judith coloured. 

" I beg your pardon, I forgot. And now I dc not 
recollect what I was going to say. It matters nothing. 
If you wish me to go, I will go. If you wish me to 
wear the diamond butterflies, I will wear them." 

" I thank you." He held out his hands to her. 

She drew back slightly and folded her palms, as 
though praying. 

" I will do much to please you, but do not press me 
too greatly. I am strange in this house, strange in my 
new situation ; give me time to breathe and look round 
and recover my confidence. Besides, we are only half 
married so far." 

" How so ? " 

" I have not signed the register." 

" No ; but that shall be done to-morrow." 

" Yes, to-morrow ; but that gives me breathing 
time. You will be patient and forbearing with 
me?" 

She put forward her hands folded, and he put his 
outside them and pressed them. The flicker of the fire 



JACK LAX TERN. 233 

ient a little colour to her cheeks, and surrounded her 
head with an aureole of spun gold. 

"Judith, I will do anything you ask. I love you 
with all my soul, past speaking. I am your slave. 
But do not hold me too long in chains, do not tread me 
too ruthlessly under foot." 

" Give me time," she pleaded. 

" I will give you a little time," he answered. 

Then she withdrew her hands from between his, and 
sped upstairs, leaving him looking into the fire, with 
troubled face. 

When she returned to her room the candles were 
still burning, and the diamonds lay on the dressing- 
table where she had left them. She took the brooch 
and earrings to return them to their box, and then 
noticed for the first time that they were wrapped in 
paper, not in cotton wool. She tapped at her aunt's 
door, and, entering, asked if she had any cotton wool 
that she could spare her. 

" No, I have not. What do you want it for ? " 

11 For the jewelry. It cannot have come from a 
shop, as it was wrapped in paper only." 

" It will take no hurt. Wrap it in paper again." 



234 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" I had rather not, auntie. Besides, I have some 
cotton wool in my workbox." 

" Then use it." 

" But my workbox has not been brought here. It is 
at Mr. Menaida's." 

"You can fetch it to-morrow." 

" But I am lost without my needles and thread.. 
Besides, I do not like to leave my workbox about. I 
will go for it. The walk will do me good." 

" Nonsense, it is falling dark." 

" I will get Uncle Zachie to walk back with me. I 
must have my workbox. Besides, the fresh air will do 
me good, and the fog has lifted." 

" As you will, then." 

So Judith put on her cloak and drew a hood over her 
head, and went back to Polzeath. She knew the way 
perfectly : there was no danger ; night had not closed 
in. It would be a pleasure to her to see the old bird- 
stuffer's face again; and she wanted to find Jamie. 
She had not seen him, nor heard his voice, and she 
supposed he must be at Polzeath. 

On her arrival at the double cottage the old fellow 
was delighted to see her, and to see that she had 



JACK 0> LANTERN. 235; 

recovered from the distress and faintness of the morn- 
ing sufficiently to be able to walk back to his house 
from her new home. Her first question was after 
Jamie. Uncle Zachie told her that Jamie had break- 
fasted at his table, but he had gone away in the after- 
noon and he had seen no more of him. The fire was 
lighted, and Uncle Zachie insisted on Judith's sitting 
by it with him and talking over the events of the day, 
and on telling him that she was content with her posi- 
tion, reconciled to the change of her state. 

She sat longer with him than she had intended, 
listening to his disconnected chatter, and then nothing 
would suffice him but she must go to the piano and 
play through his favourite pieces. 

" Remember, Judith, it is the last time I shall have 
you here to give me this pleasure." 

She could not refuse him his request, especially as 
he was to walk back to Pentyre with her. Thus time 
passed, and it was with alarm and self-reproach that she 
started up on hearing the clock strike the half-past, and 
learned it was half-past nine, and not half-past eight, as 
she supposed. 

As she now insisted on departing, Mr. Menaida put 
on his hat. 



236 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Shall we take a light ? " he asked, and then said — 
"" No, we had better not. On such a night as this a 
moving light is dangerous." 

" How can it be dangerous ? " asked Judith. 

" Not to us, my dear child ; but to a ship at sea. A 
stationary light might serve as a warning, but a moving 
light misleads. The captain of a vessel, if he has lost 
liis bearings — as is like enough in the fog — as soon as 
the mist rises, would see a light gliding along, and 
think it was that of a vessel at sea, and so make in the 
■direction of the light, in the belief that there was open 
water, and so run directly on his destruction." 

" Oh, no, no, uncle, we will not take a light." 

Mr. Menaida and Judith went out together, she with 
her workbox under her arm, he with his stick, and her 
hand resting on his arm. The night was dark, very 
■dark; but the way led for the most part over down, 
and there was just sufficient light in the sky for the 
road to be distinguishable. It would be in the lane, 
between the walls, and where overhung by thorns, that 
the darkness would be most profound. 

The wind was blowing strongly, and the sound of the 
breakers came on it now, for the cloud had lifted off 



JACK 0'' LANTERN. 237 

land and sea, though still hanging low. Very dense 
overhead it could not be, or no light would have pierced 
the vaporous canopy. 

Uncle Zachie and Judith walked on talking together, 
and she felt cheered by his presence, when all at once 
she stopped, pressed his arm, and said — 

" Oh, do look, uncle ! What is that light ? " 

In the direction of the cliffs a light was distinctly 
visible, now rising, now falling, observing an unevenly 
undulating motion. 

" Oh, uncle, it is dreadful ! Some foolish person is 
on the downs going home with a lantern, and it may 
lead to a dreadful error, and to a wreck." 

" I hope to heaven it is only what you say." 

" What do you mean ? " 

"That it is not done wilfully." 

" Wilfully ? " 

" Yes, with purpose to mislead. Look. The move- 
ment of the light is exactly that of a ship on a rolling 
sea." 

" Uncle, let us go there at once, and stop it." 

" I don't know, my dear ; if it be done by some 
unprincipled ruffian, he would not be stopped by us." 



238 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" It must be stopped. And oh ! think ! you told me 
that your Oliver is coming home. Think of him." 

" We will go." 

Mr. Menaida was drawn along by Judith in her 
eagerness. They left the road to Pentyre, and struck 
out over the downs, keeping their eyes on the light. 
The distance was deceptive. It seemed to have been 
much nearer than they found it actually to be. 

" Look ! it is coming back," exclaimed Judith. 

" Yes ; that is done wilfully. That is to give the 
appearance of a vessel tacking up channel. Stay be- 
hind, Judith ; I will go on." 

"No; I will go with you. You would not find me 
again in the darkness if we parted." 

" The light is coming this way. Stand still ; it will 
come directly on us." 

They drew up. Judith clung to Uncle Zachie's side, 
her heart beating with excitement, indignation, and 
anger. 

" The lantern is fastened to an ass's head," said 
Uncle Zachie. " Do you see how, as the creature 
moves his head, the light is swayed, and that, with the 
rise and fall in the land, makes it look as though the 



JACK % LANTERN. 239 

rise and fall were on the sea. I have my stick. Stand 
behind me, Judith." 

But a voice was heard that made her gasp and clasp 
the arm of Uncle Zachie the tighter. 

Neither spoke. 

The light approached. They could distinguish the 
lantern, though they could not see what bore it ; only — 
next moment something caught the light — the ear of a 
■donkey thrust forward. 

Again a voice, that of some one urging on the ass. 

Judith let go Menaida's arm, sprang forward with a 
cry— 

" Jamie ! Jamie ! What are you doing ? " 

In a moment she had wrenched the lantern from the 
head of the ass, and the creature, startled, dashed away 
and disappeared in the darkness. Judith put the light 
under her cloak. 

" Oh, Jamie ! Jamie ! why have you done this ? 
Who ever set you to this wicked task ? " 

"I am Jack o' Lantern," answered the boy. "Ju, 
now my Neddy is gone." 

"Jamie, who sent you out to do this? Answer 
me!" 



240 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Captain Coppinger." 

Judith walked on in silence. Neither she nor Uncle 
Zachie spoke ; only Jamie whimpered and muttered. 
Suddenly they were surrounded, and a harsh voice 
exclaimed — 

" In the King's name ! We have you now — showing 
false lights." 

Judith hastily slung the lantern from beneath her 
cloak, and saw that there were several men about her, 
and that the speaker was Mr. Scantlebray. The latter 
was surprised when he recognized her. 

"What!" he said. "laid not expect this — pretty 
quickly into your apprenticeship. What brings you 
here ? And you, too, Menaida, old man ? " 

"Nothing simpler," answered Uncle Zachie. "I 
am accompanying Mrs. Coppinger back to the Glaze." 

" What, married in the morning, and roving the 
downs at night ? " 

" I have been to Polzeath after my workbox. Here 
it is," said Judith. 

" Oh, you are out of your road to Pentyre — I suppose 
you know that ? " sneered Scantlebray. 

" Naturally," replied Mr. Menaida. " It is dark 



JACK a LAA TERN. 241 

enough for an)- one to stray. Why ! you don't suspect 
me, do you, of showing false lights and endeavouring 
to wreck vessels ? That would be too good a joke — 
and the offence, as I told you— capital." 

Scantlebray uttered an oath, and turned to the men 
and said — 

" Captain Cruel is too deep for us this time. I 
thought he had sent the boy out with the ass ; instead, 
he has sent his wife — a wife of a few hours — and never 
told her the mischief she was to do with the lantern. 
Hark ! " 

From the sea — the boom of a gun. 

All stood still as rooted to the spot. 

Then again — the boom of a gun. 

"There is a wreck!" exclaimed Scantlebray. "I 
thought so — and you, Mistress Orphing, you're guilty." 

He turned to the men. " We can make nothing of 
this affair with the lantern. Let us catch the sea- 
wolves falling on their prey." 



vol. 11. 17 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE SEA-WOLVES. 

On the Doom Bar ! 

That very merchantman was wrecked, over which so 
many Cornish mouths had watered, aye, and Devonian 
mouths also, from the moment she had been sighted at 
S. Ives. 

She had been entangled in the fog, not knowing 
where she was, all her bearings lost. The wind had 
risen, and, when the day darkened into night, the mist 
had lifted in cruel kindness to show a false glimmer 
that was at once taken as the light of a ship beating 
up the Channel. The head of the merchantman was 
put about, a half-reefed topsail spread, and she ran on 
her destruction. With a crash she was on the bar. 
The great bowlers that roll without a break from 
Labrador rushed on behind, beat her, hammered her 



THE SEA-WOLVES. 243 

further and further into the sand, surged up at each 
stroke, swept the decks with mingled foam and water 
and spray. The mainmast went down with a snap. 
Bent with the sail, at the jerk, as the vessel ran 
aground, it hroke and came down, top-mast, rigging, 
and sail, in an enveloping, draggled mass. From that 
moment the captain's voice was no more heard. Had 
he been struck by the fallen mast and stunned or 
beaten overboard ? or did he lie on deck enveloped and 
smothered in wet sail, or had he been caught and 
strangled by the cordage ? None knew ; none inquired. 
A wild panic seized crew and passengers alike. The 
chief mate had the presence of mind to order the 
discharge of signals of distress, but the order was 
imperfectly carried out. A flash, illumining for a 
second the glittering froth and heaving sea, then a 
boom. A lapse of a minute, another flash and another 
boom — almost drowned by the roar of the sea and the 
screams of women and oaths of sailors — and then panic 
laid hold of the gunner also, and he deserted his post. 
The word had gone round, none knew from whom, 
that the vessel had been lured to her destruction by 
wreckers, and that in a few minutes she would be 



244 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

boarded by these wolves of the sea. The captain, who 
should have kept order, had disappeared ; the mate 
was disregarded ; there was a general sauve-qui-peut. 
A few women were on board ; at the shock they had 
come on deck, some with children, and the latter were 
wailing and shrieking with terror. The women im- 
plored that they might be saved. Men passengers 
ran about asking what was to be done, and were beaten 
aside and cursed by the frantic sailors. A Portuguese 
nun was ill with sea-sickness, and sank on the deck 
like a log, crying to S. Joseph between her paroxysms. 
One man alone seemed to maintain his self-possession, 
a young man, and he did his utmost to soothe the 
excited women and abate their terrors. He raised the 
prostrate nun, and insisted on her laying hold of a rope, 
lest she should be carried overboard in the swash of 
the water. He entreated the mate to exert his 
authority and bring the sailors to a sense of their 
duty, to save the women, instead of escaping in the boat, 
regardful of themselves only. 

Suddenly a steady star, red in colour, glared out of 
the darkness, and between it and the wreck heaved and 
tossed a welter of waves and foam. 



THE SEA-WOLVES. 245 

'- There is land ! " shouted the mate. 

''And that shines just where that light was that led 
us here," retorted a sailor. 

The vessel heeled to one side, and shipped water 
fore and aft over either rail, with a hiss and hum. She 
plunged, staggered, and sank deeper into the sand. 

A boat had been lowered, and three men were in it, 
and called to the women to be sharp and join them. 
But this was no easy matter, for the boat at one 
moment leaped up on the comb of a black wave, and 
then sank in its yawning trough ; now was close to the 
side of the ship, and then separated from it by a rift of 
water. The frightened women were let down by ropes, 
but in their bewilderment missed their opportunity 
when the boat was under them, and some fell into 
the water and had to be dragged out ; others refused 
to leave the wreck and risk a leap into the littl 
boat. 

Nothing would induce the sick nun to venture 
overboard. She could not understand English. The 
young passenger addressed her in Portuguese, and, 
finally, losing all patience, and finding that precious 
time was wasted in arguing with a poor creature who, 



246 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

in her present condition, was incapable of reasoning-, 
he ordered a sailor to help him, caught her up in his 
arms, and proceeded to swing himself over, that he 
might carry her into the boat. 

But at that moment dark figures occupied the deck, 
and a man arrested him with his hand, whilst in a loud 
and authoritative voice he called — 

" No one leaves the vessel without my orders. 
Number Five, down into the boat and secure that. 
Number Seven, go with him. Now, one by one, and 
before each leaves, give over your purses and valuables 
that you are trying to save. No harm shall be done 
you ; only make no resistance." 

The ship was in the hands of the wreckers. 

The men in the boat would have cast off at once, but 
the two men sent into it, Numbers Five and Seven, 
prevented them. The presence of the wreckers pro- 
duced order where there had before been confusion. 
The man who had laid his hand on the Portuguese nun, 
and had given orders, was obeyed not only by his own 
men, but by the crew of the merchant vessel, and by 
the passengers, from whom all thoughts of resistance, 
if they ever rose, vanished at once. All alike, cowed 



THE SEA-WOLVES. 247 

and docile, obeyed without a murmur, and began to 
produce from their pockets whatever they had secured 
and had hoped to carry ashore with them. 
" Xudding! me nudding ! " gasped the nun. 
" Let her pass down," ordered the man who acted as 

captain. " Now the next — you " He turned on the 

young passenger who had assisted the nun. 

%< You scoundrel!" shouted the young man, "you 
shall not have a penny of mine." 

" We shall see," answered the wrecker, and levelled 
a pistol at his head. " What answer do you make to 
this ? " 

The young man struck up the pistol, and it was 
■discharged into the air. Then he sprang on the 
man acting as captain, struck him in the chest, and 
grappled with him. 

In a moment a furious contest was engaged in 
between the two men on the wet, sloping deck, sloping, 
for the cargo had shifted. 

" Hah ! " shouted the wrecker, " a Cornishman ! " 
" Yes, a Cornishman," answered the youth. 
The wrecker knew whence he came by his method of 
wrestling, a trick peculiar to the county. 



248 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

If there had been light, crew, invaders, passengers 
would have gathered in a circle and watched the 
contest, but in the dark, lashed by foam, in the roar 
of the waves and the pipe of the wind, only one or two 
that were near were aware of the conflict. Some of 
the crew were below. They had got at the spirits and 
were drinking. One drunken sailor rushed forth 
swearing and blaspheming and striking about him. 
He was knocked down by a wrecker, and a wave that 
heaved over the deck lifted him and swept him over 
the bulwarks. 

The wrestle between the two men in the dark taxed 
the full nerves and the skill of each. The young 
passenger was strong and nimble, but he had found 
his match in the wrecker. The latter was skilful and 
of great muscular power. First one went down on the 
knee, then the other, but each was up again in a 
moment. A blinding whip of foam and water slashed 
between them, stinging their eyes, swashing into their 
mouths, forcing them momentarily to relax their hold 
of each other, but next moment they had leaped at one 
another again. Now they held each other, breast to 
breast, and sought with their arms bowed like the legs 



THE SEA - WOL I ES. 249 

of grasshoppers to strangle or break each other's neck. 
Then, like a clap of thunder, a huge billow beat against 
the stern and rolled in a liquid heap over the deck, 
enveloping the wrestlers, and lifted them from their 
feet and cast them writhing, pounding each other, 
prostrate upon the deck. 

There were screams and gasps from the women as 
they escaped from the water ; the nun shrieked to 
S. Joseph — she had lost her hold and fell overboard, 
but was caught and placed in the boat. 

" Now another ! " was the shout. 

" Hand me your money," demanded one of the 
wreckers. " Madam, have no fear. We do not hurt 
women. I will help you into the boat." 

" I have nothing; nothing but this. What shall I 
do if you take my money ? " 

" I am sorry. You must either remain and drown 
when the ship breaks up, or give me the purse." 

She gave up the purse, and was safely lodged below. 

" Who are you ? " gasped the captain of the wreckers, 
in a moment of relaxation from the desperate struggle. 

"An honest man — and you a villain," retorted the 
young passenger, and the contest was recommenced. 

vol. 11. 18 



^5o IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Let go," said the wrecker, as he and the young 
passenger regained their feet, still clasping each other, 
" and you shall be allowed to depart, and carry your 
money with you." 

" I ask no man's leave to carry what is my own," 
answered the youth. He put his hand to his waist 
and unbuckled a belt ; to this belt was attached a 
pouch well weighted with metal. "This is all I have 
in the world, and with it I will beat your brains out." 
He whirled the belt and money-bag round his head, 
and brought it down with a crash upon his adversary, 
who staggered back. The young man struck at him 
again, but, in the dark, missed him, and, with the 
violence of the blow and weight of the purse, was 
carried forward, and fell on the slippery, inclined planks. 

" Now I have you ! " shouted the other ; he flung 
himself on the prostrate man, and planted his knee on his 
back. But, assisted by the inclination of the deck, the 
young man slipped from beneath his antagonist, and, 
half rising, caught him and dashed him against the rail. 

The wrecker was staggered for a moment, and had 
the passenger seized the occasion he might have finished 
the conflict; but his purse had slipped from his hand, 



THE SEA- WOL VES. 251 

and he groped for the belt till he found one end at his 
feet ; and now he twisted the belt round and about his 
right arm, and weighted his fist with the pouch. 

The captain recovered the blow, and threw himself 
on his adversary, grasped his arms between the shoulder 
and elbow, and bore him back against the bulwark, 
drove him against it, and cast himself upon him. 

" I've spared your life so far. Now I'll spare you no 
more," said he, and the young man felt that one of his 
arms was released. He could not tell at the time, he 
never could decide afterwards how he knew it, whether 
he saw, or whether he guessed it, but he was certain 
that his enemy was groping at his side for a knife. 
Then the hand of the wrecker closed on his throat, and 
the young man's head was driven back over the rail, 
almost dislocating the neck. It was then as though he 
saw into the mind of the man who had cast himself 
against him, and who was strangling him. He knew 
that he could not find the required knife ; but he saw 
nothing, only a fire and blood before his eyes that 
looked up into the black heavens, and he felt naught 
save agony at the nape of his neck where his spine 
was turned back on the bulwarks. 



252 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. 

" Number Eight ! any of you ! an axe ! " roared the 
wrecker. " By heaven ! you shall be as Wyvill, and 
float headless on the waves." 

" Coppinger ! " cried the young man, by a desperate 
effort liberating his head. He threw his arms round 
the wrecker. A dash and a boil of froth, and both 
went overboard, fighting as they fell into the surf. 

" In the King's name ! " shouted a harsh voice. 
"Surround — secure them all. Now we have them,, 
and they shall not escape." 

The wreck was boarded by, and in the hands of, the 
coastguard. 



END OF VOL. II, 



UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, CHILAVORTH AND LONDON, 



UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 



3 0112 040259175