gotten that last session Lord John Russell to public memory the unparalleled budget-botching withdrew the bill in the Commons, on the of February. They boast of their so-called ground that to send up such a measure to the Chancery Reform, although it is condemned, not Lords so late as the 20th of July would justify only by law-reformers, but even by all Conservatheir lordships in rejecting it. This year, after tives not interested in Chancery abuses, as the having given formal notice of doing something merest trifling with an enormous evil. In brief, energetic, he gets the bill into their lordships' they have little to say, and that little not satishands on the 17th of July-nominally three days factory, just because little, and of that little not earlier, but, as the session was seven days nearer much good, has been done. Some one says, its close, really four days later! Again we say, "Happy the nation whose history is uneventful!" no wonder; for the noble lord had other and quite This, which is true of events of war and battle, opposite work in hand. It was difficult for him to is the reverse of truth if applied to a case like that persuade the Legislature to oppress the Papists and which is ours at present-to the course, or rather relieve the Jews in the same session. After the to the stagnation, of legislation in a country where bill had been rejected, new life and a new aspect there are abuses to be reformed, and injustices to were given to the question by the spirited move- be removed, and progress to be made-where, ment of Mr. Salomons, and the striking and weighty in short, "much work remaineth yet to be testimony of Mr. Bethell that what seemed plain done." to common-sense (that Jews are admissible under an oath never meant to keep them out, and all the substance of which they are ready to adopt and swear to) is sound also in law. Lord John had still nothing but cold, stiff-necked, and unreasoning opposition. However, the inherent justice of the principle, and the new light and life it has received from the discussions on Mr. Salomon's attempt to take his seat, have done much to place the question among those that must soon be settled whether or not Lord John Russell will or can give it any aid. It cannot be expected that we should be able to find any better or even any other topics of the session on which to speak, when the Queen's prorogation-speech shows that the Ministers themselves have not succeeded in setting up anything beyond a most meagre and uninviting list. They are driven to make a paragraph out of the repeal of the window-tax, forgetting to mention the re-imposition of the house-duty, and recklessly recalling Let us, however, be thankful and hopeful too. Let us be thankful that if the Ministry and Legislature have been slothful and negligent, the people are, on the whole, energetic and prosperous under that commercial system which they took rather than got from their rulers, and which their rulers, since they did not give, need not hope to take away. Intellectually too, as well as materially, we are on the advance, though in both departments there may be many and sad exceptions-breakings-down, laggings in the rear, and turnings-aside. And let us be hopeful, but by no means confident, that by that measure of enfranchisement with which Lord John Russell promises next year to cover a multitude of sins, he will do much to give the improved temperament and advancing opinions of the people increased efficacy, and so impart to the Legislature and to himself some of that direction and motive power for lack of which they have, of late months, been standing still and sliding backwards. CHAPTER XXXV. "THEY run fast whom the Devil drives." In two days Ludovicko had the deeds ready, and he took them out to Craigallan Castle on a cold winter night, such as would have kept him and most men within doors on all save extraordinary occasions. The snow lay thick on the ground, and continued to fall in heavy flakes; rich men drew down their curtains on their double windows, and poor men shut their doors and plugged up crevices. Ludovicko cared little for the elements; and having the prospect of grasping a rich property for a small outlay, he was scarcely conscious of performing a journey, every step in which immersed him to the knee. Having arrived after some delay, he was shown into the library where Morison waited for him. "Here," said Ludovicko, " is a bag containing a hundred sovereigns, the balance of the thousand is in Bank of England notes, and here are bills on America for the balance of the purchase-money. Sign-this is a bad night to be from home." "Who are to witness my signature?" asked Morison. "Leave that to me," was the reply. Morison signed the parchment document page by page, as directed. "Do you leave to-night?" inquired the uncle. "Yes-I shall be off in two hours by the night mail." "Will you, indeed? You have to sign one more page-that will do. Off to-night, do you say? Well, good bye," said Ludovicko, moving towards the door. "Is that the way you are going to take leave of me, after being together so long?" was Morison's off to America, like yourself. Do not refuse it—I bitter remark. am both desperate and dangerous." "So am I," replied Morison. "What would you have me to do?" sneered the tender uncle. "I am not a woman, and cannot snivel or be sentimental. I might, to be sure, give you advice, but could you follow it, or am I exactly the person to give it?" "I don't say you are; but you might have wished me safe off, or something of that kind. It's decidedly hard to leave a place like this, and not a living being to speak a kind word by way of farewell. I feel this a little, for I am human, but perhaps that is more than can be said of you." "Perhaps it is; but remember, young man, you have crossed me in my path, and defied me to my teeth. Had I not had a contra account against you I have no doubt I should have experienced your tender mercies. Few who cross me ever get off so well as you are likely to do: several of my friends have gone abroad ere now, but it was always at the public expense-you understand me. Farewell, since that must be the word." Ludovicko held out his hand, and a very formal shake took place. "Cold, calculating blood-sucker," said Morison, a few minutes after the door closed on his uncle, "had I your cunning I might devise some parting memorial for you." "I will help you!" exclaimed a voice which appeared to come from behind Godfrey Graham's portrait. Morison started up in terror, and, spell-bound, looked on the picture. It was near the time for the mail, and the idea of detention, together with his solitary position at the midnight hour, his danger and guilt, all conspired to awe him into fear. He held his breath in bursting suspense, and saw the portrait quiver; the whole mass of canvass moved forward from the wall, and covered with dust and blood, and in literal rags, WAINRIGHT sprung down on the floor before him. "Dog! scoundrel! what brings you here?" asked Morison, literally shaking with rage, partly the effect of his previous excitement, and partly inveterate anger at the appearance of his old associate in crime. "Protection," replied Wainright, taking a chair with great coolness. "You shan't have it !" roared Morison. "Two words to that; if I am discovered so are you. I'm hungry and thirsty, give me something if you would not see me die." "You shall not get one morsel, and glad would I be if to withhold it were to insure your death, villain to undo me at this critical moment." "Morison," said Wainright solemnly, "this is no time for quarrelling, we are both in danger. I have escaped from transportation. I swam to a vessel amidst showers of bullets; I lived in her hold when she was fumigated, and rats and men were suffocated around me; I lived on board that ship for days and even weeks without food; I escaped unseen when she landed; I have travelled on foot from England to this by the dead of night, and all I want is as much money as will carry me "Give me half of this money," said Wainright. "Not a farthing!" exclaimed Morison. "I implore you!" returned the convict. "Do it now, you can run off, and I'll remain here a little longer." the hue and cry after me! I I'm not the spoon I was when Do all know of your being "Yes, and raise know you better. you first saw me. here?" "None but Copperas." "He is laid up in prison, and so is safe. I have only to secure you and make my retreat good." Morison advanced as if to lay hands on Wainright-the latter drew a pistol, but, reckless of consequences, Morison still pressed forward, and Wainright fired, but the instrument only flashed in the pan. 'Dog!" exclaimed the victor," I have you now!" He seized him by the throat, and pushing him towards the wall the two stumbled against a chair; Wainright, from fatigue and hunger, could make little resistance, and Morison bent him over the back of the chair. The face of the convict became purple, and the eyes started from their sockets; but Morison released not his hold, but still kept bending him backwards till all resistance ceased, and then he flung him on the floor as senseless as if he had been a weed on the highway. He fell without a groan, although he went heavily to the ground. For a moment the murderer gave a look of horror on his victim; but there was no time for reflection, the deed was done, and the instinct of self-preservation cried aloud that the place of blood was no safe place for the surviving criminal. He dragged the body into the recess, and, re-adjusting the picture, prepared for flight. Hastily he gathered together his money and swallowed a large flask of brandy; for he felt that he much needed artificial courage. He then re-primed Wainright's pistol, after satisfying himself that it was properly loaded, and made towards the door on tiptoe. Stealing cautiously into the passage, he thought he heard the sound of approaching footsteps; but assuring himself that it could only be the echoes of his own fears, he groped his way to the top of the stairs, and prepared to descend. Suddenly he heard a loud knocking at the outer-door-the bells rangand a confused noise of voices came from the outside. He turned back in a paroxysm of terror, and hurried to the library. The recess appeared now to be the only chance of escape; but to enter it and pass over and be alone with the body of the murdered man spread a dread chill over him. But the sounds were coming nearer; the avengers of blood were at the door, and he had no alternative. Tearing open the picture he put out the light and then rushed in. For half an hour he heard the tramp of strangers in all directions, but dared not attempt escape; to which ever end of the recess he went, the noises ever appeared louder and louder. He fell down in a trance of mortal agony, and determined passively to meet his fate. "There is a secret passage," cried an unknown CRAIGALLAN CASTLE. voice, "between the library and the kitchen-lobby; | services were put in requisition for Wainright, but to no purpose. His spine had been injured beyond does anyone know it?" "I do," returned another voice, which the im-cure, and he died next day. Before his death, he paled victim knew to be that of Skipton the brazier, and therefore saw that his hour was come. "Let two armed men," continued the voice, "watch here, and let the other two follow the guide. Take him alive, if possible, but fire if there is any resistance. Tear down the picture!" The picture was slashed open with a cutlass, and the body of Wainright drawn out. "Is this the man?" asked the sheriff of the county. Copperas nodded. "He is not quite dead," said one of the officers, who immediately began to use such restorative efforts as the exigency permitted. Gradually Wainright revived, but to a very trifling extent. "Where is Morison?" asked Copperas; but the dying man could not answer-indeed, it was a question if he understood what was said to him. Presently a shot was heard in the passage, and Morison was dragged in. He had fired his pistol, but without effect. 66 What am I accused of?" asked Morison suddenly; "and who are you that invade my house in this fashion?" "I am the sheriff of the county," replied the superintendent of the proceedings; "and the charge against you is robbing the Ship Bank, and aiding in the escape of a convict returned from transportation." "The latter charge is false," replied the prisoner. "He came here unknown to me, and I refused to shelter him." was examined as far as his state admitted; and his As the disclosures were being made, Morison sat before the sheriff heavily ironed, and with a look redolent of malignant ferocity. 66 very My lord," said he, "I see it is all up with me; but, mark me! Ludovicko Grant, my reputed uncle, is not free from blame in this matter. knife with Although procurator-fiscal, he knew of my guilt; for he found the fragment of the which I opened Day's hatch, and, comparing it with the broken piece on my desk, brought home the charge to me, and held it over my head in order that I might not proceed against him for being a party to my estate's being assumed by the illegal heir, with whom he acted in concert. If I am to suffer, I do not see why he should escape." "Take down his words," replied the sheriff; You only get quit of one charge by bringing on yourself one of a more heinous description." when he arrives in St. David's, his declaration, This wretch, your accomplice, evidently has not if he have any to make, will be received more long to live, and it is evident that the signs he formally." makes, as to you being his murderer, bring home that graver charge against you." Wainright tried to lift himself on one side, and, pointing to the black finger-marks on his throat, signed that they had been inflicted by Morison. 66 "I did it in self-defence. He drew a pistol on me." "If it were in self-defence," observed the magistrate, "how came you to fling him into the recess? -or why did you not call for assistance ?" "I am not on my trial," answered Morison doggedly; and then changing his tone, "Come, my lord, what bail do you want? I'll enter on my own recognizances for a large amount." And he began to tell out the money. "I can take no bail from one charged with two capital offences," replied the sheriff. "Officers! search the prisoners, and then remove them, taking care that the younger one be well secured." The orders were obeyed: the prisoners were placed in one of Morison's own carts, and removed to Paulton. The servants of the establishment were so alarmed at what had taken place, that they ran off from the Castle; and the officers had to fasten the doors, and leave the old pile without a living tenant on that eventful night. Arrived in Paulton, Dr. Anthony Fitzgibbon's While Morison stood in the inn-yard ready to be carried to the county prison, a large crowd had assembled, who bent on him many looks of triumphant joy, which galled him excessively. Looking earnestly among the faces to see if he could discover one that had the least aspect of friendliness, his eye fell on the debauchee who, in the midnight orgies of Craigallan, was known as the Chaplain. He beckoned to him, and the worthy came to the side of his old patron. 66 Archley," said the criminal, “I once laughed at you because you could not, as I thought, get a Do you take tenpenny rope for a certain purpose. my meaning?" The Chaplain nodded. is "I have a hundred-pound note in my watch-fob, which has escaped the searchers; get me something that will do the business-anything out of a I hang druggist's shop, or a cutler's, that will do the business effectually-and the money otherwise! For Heaven's sake go!" The Chaplain disappeared. By the time he returned, Morison had been put into a coach, and an officer was stepping in after him; the Chaplain yours. went to the other side, and, pretending to shake | destruction, and, by the time they had well cleared hands with him, gave and received. The cavalcade moved on, the sheriff alone remaining behind. "My lord," said Ludovicko, with an affectation of great distress, "official although I am, I am sure your lordship, considering the relationship that I bear to this unhappy young man, will excuse my earlier attendance on this melancholy occasion." "I can excuse it, but not for the reason you mention." My lord!" exclaimed the procurator. "I have good grounds for supposing that you yourself know of this robbery, and I have issued a warrant for your apprehension accordingly. I shall, however, admit you to bail, but it must be heavy. You will also please to remain here, as I have sent the officers to examine your premises." Ludovicko bit his lip, adding that his lordship was quite right in taking every step that his responsible station warranted; but, for himself, he felt persuaded that nothing could be advanced against him which could possibly injure his professional character. Onwards swept the criminal procession, one carriage bearing the prisoner, and other two the criminal officers. The mob shouted and yelled on every hand, and missiles of all kinds were flung upon the miserable captive. As he came near the street where the Grahams lived, Morison's bitter reflection was, that they would be spectators of his downfall. He looked along, and saw two female figures at the window; but as the mob came up he found that they had retired, and that the shutters had been closed. "There's the shipwrecked sailor," said Martha to Sarah, "who told me about Wainright and the rope-ladder." "How did you come to see him?" asked Hodges, who was standing by. "He saw Morison come in," replied Martha, and, following him, asked if that gentleman was a freen' o' the family. So far from that,' said I,' he is the greatest enemy that ever we had.' Well, then,' said he, 'would you like to give him a terrible fright?' 'I wud gi'e all I am worth,' said I. 'Then,' said he, 'gi'e me half-a-crown, and I'll tell you four words that will frighten him out o' his judgment.' I thocht it was a swindle; but he swore terrible oaths, and so I gi'ed him the siller, thinking mysel' an auld idiot the moment it was oot o' my fingers; but, my certie! it was worth three half-crowns to see how he ran after the four words cam oot." "He is the same man," said Hodges to Sarah, "who has turned king's evidence against Morison." "Do not speak of it," replied the young lady; "I am sick at hearing of so many horrors. And here is all the people running back again-something else has happened," and with that she again hastily retreated from the window. Hodges ran down stairs to discover the cause of the new alarm. "Morison has killed himsel'!" shouted the crowd; and it was too true. The co-operation of the Chaplain had supplied him with the means of the town, he found means to execute his awful purpose. Again Dr. Fitzgibbon's services were called into requisition, and again to no purpose; the soul of the second criminal had followed the guilty spirit of his victim, and both escaping the judgment and punishment of earthly tribunals, were prematurely hurried before the assize of the Eternal. Ludovicko's bail-bonds were prepared, and he signed them. "Another chance," thought he. "Never was the horizon darker than it was fifteen minutes ago; but dead men tell no tales. Craigallan will yet be mine." He returned home, amidst the bad wishes of the mob, who now generally understood that he had been privy to his nephew's crimes. "The ass multitude!" said he, "who cares for them? They spit on me to-day, but to-morrow they will perhaps crouch at my feet." Returning their looks of contempt with full interest, he walked on. But it is dangerous to provoke a mob; and, before he gained his door, a shower of brickbats rewarded his temerity, and to save his life he had literally to seek shelter in Livingston's office. CHAPTER XXXVI. ANOTHER HEIR. WHEN we parted with Edward Turner he was called to attend on his wounded captain. During the storm which overtook the Brilliant, a block, it may be recollected, fell on the head of Tommy Barker, and being carried senseless to the cabin, Edward was summoned from the hold to attend him. Tommy's case was desperate; for a fortnight he was in a state of delirium and danger, but at last a lucid interval took place, and Tommy ejaculated, "Where am I?" in a pathetic tone of voice that might have done honour to a tragedyqueen immured in one of the dungeons generally assigned to those woe-begone members of the human family. The mate, and not Echo, answered Tommy, and the response was, "In your bed, captain.” "What has been the matter with me?" "Killed, at least at the time, by one of the maintackle blocks." "Well," rejoined Tommy, " that accounts for a terrible stiffness in my head." "The doctor has been a good friend to you, captain; he has scarcely left your bed night or day since the thing happened." "The doctor-fellow!" replied Tommy. "Do I owe my life to him?” "Yes." "You can do no good, sir," said the mate, trying | gathering and re-construction again was rendered to hold down Tommy's valiant person. "Don't trouble yourself," replied Edward composedly, "he has not strength to rise." And so it turned out; for although Tommy turned his coal-black eye on Edward, as if to rebuke his opinion, the experiment being tried, Tommy found the "doctor-fellow" to be right, and that he could not rise. as impossible as the piecing of a shattered vase. Study seemed to the disconsolate lover the only solace and refuge that he could fly to, and he more than redoubled his vigilance in prosecuting his professional avocations. His talents and amiable disposition gained him many friends; and one day, while at a meeting of a scientific society, he was told by one of the professors of the university that he was attending, that a British ship-of-war was lying off Long Island in want of an assistant-surgeon. "She has," continued the professor, "lost the "Because I don't like to be owing anything to former assistant on her way from some of the penal you." settlements in the West Indies; the principal sur "Doctor-fellow," continued the invalid, "I wish you had not cured me." "Why, captain ?" "Well," answered Edward, " don't owe any-geon is delicate, and if you, Turner, get your hand thing, but suppose I did it in the discharge of my in, you may get a commission when you arrive in duty. Yet, after all, what in the world makes you have such an ill-will at me?" Tommy gave the counterpane another drive, then snorted with great vehemence, and turning his back to his medical officer, spoke no more. "The man's mad," said Edward to himself, "and no wonder. Whose brain could have stood such a blow?" The Brilliant got heavily through the seas in her disabled state, and the crew joyfully hailed the approach of an American vessel, which humanely took her in tow, and both, after a short time, arrived in New York. Edward, as before explained, resolved on spending the winter there, and wrote to Sarah announcing his determination. After waiting anxiously for a reply, he received the forged letter, which plunged him, as might have been expected, into the most profound distress. He had never seen her handwriting, so that he could not detect the imposture; and charitably concluding that her's was the case of a fine mind perverted by parental influence acting in a wrong direction, he blamed his fate more than her. He associated no guilt with Sarah Graham, but cherished in his memory the fond, confiding girl whom he had parted from so tenderly, and tried to drown all thought of the changed being who now passed by her name. But it was hard to think a loved and loving one unkind. The lesson of forgetfulness was difficult to learn, and to tear such an idol from his heart was to rend it in twain; for there she was enshrined, as a deep and holy affection, associated with all that was tender, graceful, and exalting. But there was her letter, the death-warrant of his luckless love-so surely dashing the cup of joy from his lips, and scattering into so many fragments the mirror of hope, that their Britain." Edward shook his head at the idea of returning to his native country; but the consideration of obtaining a commission in his Majesty's service, and thus exalting himself in the estimation of the Grahams, and showing them that he was not so unworthy of Sarah as they had anticipated-this operated powerfully with him, and he agreed to become a candidate for the appointment. "A candidate!" replied the friendly teacher, "there is no use in becoming a candidate-the appointment is in my hands. Had it been an American vessel I might have recommended an American; but as the Shannon and the Chesapeak affair is not yet forgotten between the two nations, a countryman might not be comfortable; and so, if you say the word, I nominate you." Edward said the word, and next day he was on board the Wellesley seventy-four, with the British ensign flying from her mizen gaff, and, pro tempore, an officer under the shadow of that all-important piece of bunting. As he walked to the cockpit from the mess-room a sailor touched his hat and seemed to recognise him. "I think I should know you, my man," said Edward. "I shall never forget you, sir," replied the tar, with filling eyes. "I am John Arthur, whose child you saved. I heard that our new doctor's name was Turner, and I wondered if it would be you." Edward clasped the hand of John warmly; for who that meets a known face on a foreign shore can do so without emotion? It is one of the kindest instincts of home, and touches the rudest minds. Edward asked after his wife and family, and fain would have said something of Craigallan; but his tongue refused its office, and he contented himself with general inquiries. Altered times, now, up at the old castle, sir," said John Arthur. "Very much indeed," sighed Edward. "But the young lady bears up wonderfully, although she is but a frail boat to stand such a squall." "Does Morison use her very ill?" "Desperate, sir!" "Wretch!" muttered Edward. "Was not your wife surprised when Miss Graham took up with him?" |