Chapter Twenty Six.

Chapter Twenty Six.The Prison Ship.—The Great Minister.—A Gleam of Sunshine.Some way up the Thames lay a large hulk. Her decks were housed in, her hulk was black; she bore but little resemblance to the stout ship she had once been, except from the ports which were to be seen on either side. They were very thickly grated. It was the prison ship. Low down in one of the dark cells below the water-line, with manacles on his ankles, lay Harry Tryon. His cheeks had become pale, his eye had lost much of its brightness, but hope had not altogether died within him. Still he was fully sensible of the dangerous position in which he was placed. He had become of late a wiser and a sadder man than he had ever been before. Still as day after day passed by and no friends came near him, his spirits sank lower and lower.“Have they all deserted me?” he said to himself, clasping his hands. “Mr Kyffin would not, I am sure, and Mabel—she knows nothing of my desperate state. Would that I had written to her. Some effort might have been made to save me; but I could not bear the thought of writing to her as a felon, to let her hand touch the paper smelling of this foul prison. Better far that I should die unknown. When the wretched Andrew Brown is run up to the yard-arm there will be no one to mourn him, and Harry Tryon may disappear without a stain of disgrace upon the name.”He attempted to rise—he could do so with difficulty—to take a few turns up and down the narrow cell. Scarcely ever was he left in silence. There was the ripple of the water against the ship’s side; above him the steps of other prisoners as they, like him, paced to and fro. Now and then there were shouts and cries of men driven to despair by their approaching fate, others singing and shouting with careless indifference. It was weary work, that prison walk, for the chains were heavy. The gyves hurt his legs. Again he sat himself down, and clasped his hands upon his knees.“Death! death will be welcome!” he exclaimed, “the only termination to my misery and shame.”As he thus sat his ears caught the sound of footsteps moving along the passage outside. The lock in the heavy door moved, it opened, and a bright light which dazzled his eyes burst in.“They are come,” he thought, “to carry me off.”“I am ready,” he said, starting up, expecting to see the gaoler and the guard of soldiers. Instead, as his eyes recovered their vision, he saw standing before him his ever faithful guardian Roger Kyffin. He sprang forward, then stopped for a moment and hung down his head.“You cannot come to own a wretched convict like me,” he exclaimed, in a tone of sadness.“Do not say that, Harry,” answered Mr Kyffin, stepping forward and taking his hands. “Not a moment’s rest or happiness have I enjoyed since I learned the dangerous position in which you were placed. Do not doubt the regard I must ever have for you. I have discovered how you have been deceived, and how you were induced to desert your truest friend; I have therefore every excuse for you. I have learned that even in this instance you are guiltless of disloyalty, and, believe me, Harry, however guilty you have been, I should still have looked upon you as a son.”“You make me desire once more to live,” exclaimed Harry, for the first time perhaps in his life bursting into tears. “I thought no one cared for me. I was prepared to die unknown and unlamented; and oh! tell me, Mr Kyffin, does Mabel know of my condition?—has she discarded me?”His voice trembled. He looked eagerly in his guardian’s face for a reply.“No, Harry, indeed she has not discarded you. She is true-hearted.”“Is there any hope for me—must I suffer as so many unhappy men have done?” gasped out Harry.“There is hope, my boy. I cannot say for a certainty that you will be saved. Mabel herself obtained from the King a request to his ministers that your life should be spared, and I have seen the governor of the prison, and he believes it confers sufficient authority on him not to deliver you up till his Majesty’s pleasure shall be further known.”Mr Kyffin then explained to Harry more clearly the particulars of which the reader is already aware. Harry Tryon sank down on his knees, and thanked Heaven from the depth of his heart for the prospect of a release from the ignominious death for which he had been prepared. Alas! he had not often truly prayed. His grandmother had not attempted to teach him even a form of prayer, and seldom, during the life he spent in London had he ever dared to kneel to ask a blessing of his Heavenly Father. He had now, however, learned an important lesson. He had felt his utter helplessness and weakness, and had discovered that when lifting up his heart to God he received a strength and courage which he could by no other means have obtained.“And Mabel! bless her for what she has done for me! But oh! Mr Kyffin, tell me where is she, how is she?”“She bears up wonderfully,” answered Mr Kyffin, “and even now she and her kind friend Mrs Barbara Thornborough have gone to Mr Pitt to endeavour, if possible, to see him, and obtain his warrant for your liberation.”“Then I am sure she will succeed,” exclaimed Harry, joyfully.“Do not raise your hopes too high, my boy, and yet I would wish to support and encourage you,” remarked Mr Kyffin. “My stay with you now must be short, as I promised to meet Miss Everard after she had had an interview with the minister. Even should he refuse, we must not lose heart. We must bring other influence to bear on him. However, Harry, I know you too well to think that there is any necessity to urge you not to despair. And now farewell. I purpose to return before long. I hope to bring good news, but you must not be disappointed if it is not as good as we wish. This mutiny, so happily quelled has been very serious, and might have proved most disastrous to the country. The nation therefore is naturally little inclined to look with leniency on those who took a part in it, especially on the leaders; and from your having been associated with Parker, you, in the ordinary course, could scarcely expect a pardon.”Mr Kyffin was gone, and Harry was once more left to his own thoughts. The hours passed wearily by, they seemed longer than any during his imprisonment. Sleep would not visit his eyelids. Anxiously he listened for every sound, hoping for the speedy return of his friend.Meantime Mabel, who had parted from Mr Kyffin at Mr Thornborough’s house after their return from Windsor, prepared to set out with Mrs Barbara, attended by the two seamen and Paul,—to Mr Pitt’s house at Putney. She waited but a short time to obtain a little refreshment which Mistress Barbara urged on her, and together they drove towards the residence of the minister, while Mr Kyffin proceeded down the river to pay the visit to Harry which has been described.It was late in the evening when they arrived at the villa. The two ladies, sending up their names, earnestly requested that they might be admitted. Mr Pitt was very much engaged, and could receive no visitors.“Is Lady Hester at home?” asked Mrs Barbara. “Her Ladyship may remember me,” she observed, turning to Mabel; “if she does, she will, I think, see us, and through her we may press our suit on her uncle.”The two ladies waited anxiously for the return of the servant.“Lady Hester will see you, ladies,” was the reply, and Mabel and her friend descended from the carriage.They were ushered into a handsome drawing-room, where Lady Hester was seated alone at a writing-table.“I remember you, Mistress Thornborough,” she said, rising and coming forward in a gracious manner. “Tell me, to what cause am I indebted for the honour of this visit?”“My young friend here will explain it to you,” said Mrs Barbara, now introducing Mabel. “One in whom she is deeply interested has been implicated in the late mutiny at the Nore, and in consequence of proper evidence not having been brought forward which would have proved that he acted under compulsion, he has been condemned to death. We have seen his Majesty, who was acquainted with the young gentleman, and have now come, wishing to see Mr Pitt, with two seamen of the ship on board which he served, who can clearly prove that he was an unwilling participator in what took place. Still time is pressing.”“I can hold out but slight hopes of Mr Pitt’s interference,” answered Lady Hester. “He sees the importance of preventing the recurrence of such a mutiny by striking a wholesome terror into the minds of the seamen.”“But surely he would not wish an innocent person to suffer!” exclaimed Mabel. “He can be proved innocent, believe me, your ladyship. The King himself is convinced that he is so. Let me entreat you to beg Mr Pitt to grant a pardon to this young man.”“You take a warm interest in him,” said Lady Hester, looking at Mabel somewhat harshly.“Yes, indeed I do, I have known him from his youth,” answered Mabel. “He is true and loyal, and would never have aided so dangerous a conspiracy as this appears to have been, to destroy the naval power of England.”Lady Hester seemed to relent as she gazed at the young girl. “I am ready to believe you,” she answered, “that this young man is innocent. Tell me, how came he to be on board ship in the capacity of an ordinary seaman?”Mabel blushed and hesitated.“Oh, I see how it was,” said Lady Hester; “and now you repent. I will see Mr Pitt, and give him your statement of the case.”“Then may I beg you to deliver this letter from his Majesty at the same time?” said Mabel, presenting the King’s note.Lady Hester took the paper, and remarked, as she rose to leave the room, “It may have weight with my uncle, but, at the same time, even the King himself cannot turn him from his will when he has once made up his mind.”Once more the ladies were left in doubt and anxiety. Mabel could not hope much from Lady Hester’s manner. Mrs Barbara, who had seen her before, argued favourably. Lady Hester was some time absent.At length the door opened, and she returned, followed by a slightly-built gentleman, scarcely yet of middle age, whose bright eye and broad forehead betokened intellect of no ordinary kind. His manner was somewhat stiff and formal as, bowing to the ladies, who had risen at the entrance of Lady Hester, he took his seat near them.“You come with a request from his Majesty, I understand, to beg me to interfere in the case of one of the mutineers of the Nore. His Majesty’s commands have always great influence with me; at the same time, you must understand that the matter is one of a most serious character. A great many men have been pardoned who really took a part in the mutiny by supporting their leaders. If the leaders themselves are pardoned, the men will think that, after all, the crime they committed was a slight one,” he observed, in a tone of voice which made Mabel’s heart sink within her.“But, oh! sir,” she exclaimed, pressing her hands before her in a pleading attitude, “but this young man, Andrew Brown, for by that name he is known, was not guilty of any evil intentions.”Mabel repeated the statement she had already made to the King.“You plead his cause earnestly young lady,” said the minister, “and right well, too. Let me see these witnesses, and if they give a satisfactory statement, I will recommend the young man as a fit subject for his Majesty’s clemency. I cannot reverse the judgment of the court, you must remember. If that condemned him, condemned he must be, but his Majesty can exert his prerogative of mercy, and both save his life and obtain his release.”“Oh! thank you, sir, thank you,” exclaimed Mabel, expressing by her looks more than by her words what she felt.The minister rang the bell, and ordered the two seamen to be admitted. In a short time there was a scuffling outside. The door opened, and Jacob Tuttle and Jack Veal appeared, one urging on the other, as if neither liked to be the first to enter. They held their hats in their hands, pulling away at their locks as they would have done addressing an officer on the quarter-deck. Lady Hester looked on with an amused countenance as the minister cross-questioned them as to the part their shipmate had taken in the mutiny.“He took no part at all, please you, sir, for I don’t call writing letters with a pistol held at a man’s head taking part in the mutiny, and I know for certain that he hated it as much as any one. Besides, sir, when we proposed striking the red flag, and carrying the ship up the river, he heartily joined the loyal part of the crew, and a pretty severe tussle we had, too, before we got possession of the ship and handed it over to the officers.”Jack Veal corroborated what Jacob had said, and Mr Pitt drew forth a considerable amount of further evidence which satisfied him that if these witnesses spoke the truth, Andrew Brown’s guilt was not of a nature to merit death. At last he turned to Mabel.“I have no hesitation in recommending his Majesty to pardon the young man in whom you are interested. His story is, I have no doubt, a romantic one, and I do not wish to add to the romance by allowing him to finish his career at the yard-arm. You need have no fear, therefore, young lady, on that score. I will send down a reprieve, and will also give you a paper, which will secure a full pardon for your friend on being signed by his Majesty. I must wish you good evening, and I am glad that my niece, Lady Hester, who is staying with me for a few days, has brought the matter before my notice.”Without waiting to hear the expressions of gratitude which Mabel and Mrs Barbara felt disposed to pour forth, the great minister left the room. Lady Hester warmly congratulated them on the success of their mission, and assured them that she cordially sympathised with them. Jacob, forgetting where he was, on hearing that Harry was to be pardoned, threw up his hat, and in his delight uttered a loud shout exclaiming—“Bless you, my lady! Bless Mr Pitt, and the King, and all the Royal Family! If I had as many lives as a cat, I would gladly spend them all in the service of so good a King and so noble a minister.”On entering the carriage, Mabel sank back into the arms of Mrs Barbara, and gave way to her feelings in a flood of tears.“Oh, he will be saved!” she exclaimed; “I scarcely dared hope it till now.”At length Mabel appeared somewhat to recover her composure, and worn out by anxiety of mind and the fatigue she had gone through, at length sank to sleep in the arms of her friend. They did not reach home till a late hour. Scarcely conscious, Mabel was carried to bed. Her dreams were far more happy than they had been for many a day. She and her kind friend looked forward with anxiety to the return of Mr Kyffin on the following day. He arrived before noon with the intelligence that the governor of the prison had received the minister’s reprieve for Harry. That afternoon had been fixed for the review of the volunteers in Hyde Park. Mabel felt sure that his Majesty would, if he had an opportunity, immediately sign the pardon which the minister had given her.It was a lovely day. The sun shone brightly forth from an unclouded sky, and from the various avenues of approach troops marched up to the ground preceded by their bands of music and colours flying—infantry, cavalry, and artillery. The most numerous corps was that of the City Light Horse. Some of the companies, however, were dismounted and marched on foot. Others came in long cars, with their rifles between their knees, while a band of well-equipped horsemen rode up at the head of the regiment, their glittering arms and handsome dresses distinguishing them from the men of other corps. The privates, as well as the officers, were all gentlemen, a considerable number of them men of fortune and independence. One spirit animated every regiment alike—ardent love of their country, and a determination, if called upon, to fight bravely and to die in her defence.Mr Kyffin and Mabel waited for a favourable opportunity of approaching the King, for Mabel’s anxiety would brook no delay, and she was afraid that he might return to Windsor without signing the paper.At length the King drew up, preparatory to the troops marching past. The time seemed favourable, as there was an open space near his Majesty by which she could approach. Dressed in deep mourning, and leaning on Mr Kyffin’s arm, her countenance radiant with beauty, her colour heightened by excitement, she drew near to the King. One of the equerries observing her, inquired what she wanted.“It is not the right moment to approach his Majesty,” he answered.The King, hearing what was said, turned his head, and seeing her, exclaimed—“Ah! my dear young lady, how can I help you? What is it? Will not Mr Pitt advise me to pardon the young mutineer?”“Oh! yes, your Majesty. He has given me a proper document which only requires your Majesty’s signature, but every moment is of consequence. It is cruel to have him kept in that dreadful prison, and I dread lest by any mistake he may be carried off and executed.”Mabel could scarcely bring herself to utter these words. The King smiled.“No fear of that, I trust, my sweet young lady, but I will sign the paper. Go and wait for me at Saint James’s; as soon as this affair is over I will come there. Lord So-and-so,” he said, turning to one of his equerries, “remind me that I have a paper to sign; it is for that young lady; you will not forget it now.”The equerry turned to Mabel and bowed low.The colour which had left her cheeks rose again in them, for the look cast on her was full of intense admiration. Mr Kyffin whispered to Mabel that she must not press the matter further, and bowing to the King, who gave a kind parting word to Mabel, they retired from among the glittering throng of military officers.

Some way up the Thames lay a large hulk. Her decks were housed in, her hulk was black; she bore but little resemblance to the stout ship she had once been, except from the ports which were to be seen on either side. They were very thickly grated. It was the prison ship. Low down in one of the dark cells below the water-line, with manacles on his ankles, lay Harry Tryon. His cheeks had become pale, his eye had lost much of its brightness, but hope had not altogether died within him. Still he was fully sensible of the dangerous position in which he was placed. He had become of late a wiser and a sadder man than he had ever been before. Still as day after day passed by and no friends came near him, his spirits sank lower and lower.

“Have they all deserted me?” he said to himself, clasping his hands. “Mr Kyffin would not, I am sure, and Mabel—she knows nothing of my desperate state. Would that I had written to her. Some effort might have been made to save me; but I could not bear the thought of writing to her as a felon, to let her hand touch the paper smelling of this foul prison. Better far that I should die unknown. When the wretched Andrew Brown is run up to the yard-arm there will be no one to mourn him, and Harry Tryon may disappear without a stain of disgrace upon the name.”

He attempted to rise—he could do so with difficulty—to take a few turns up and down the narrow cell. Scarcely ever was he left in silence. There was the ripple of the water against the ship’s side; above him the steps of other prisoners as they, like him, paced to and fro. Now and then there were shouts and cries of men driven to despair by their approaching fate, others singing and shouting with careless indifference. It was weary work, that prison walk, for the chains were heavy. The gyves hurt his legs. Again he sat himself down, and clasped his hands upon his knees.

“Death! death will be welcome!” he exclaimed, “the only termination to my misery and shame.”

As he thus sat his ears caught the sound of footsteps moving along the passage outside. The lock in the heavy door moved, it opened, and a bright light which dazzled his eyes burst in.

“They are come,” he thought, “to carry me off.”

“I am ready,” he said, starting up, expecting to see the gaoler and the guard of soldiers. Instead, as his eyes recovered their vision, he saw standing before him his ever faithful guardian Roger Kyffin. He sprang forward, then stopped for a moment and hung down his head.

“You cannot come to own a wretched convict like me,” he exclaimed, in a tone of sadness.

“Do not say that, Harry,” answered Mr Kyffin, stepping forward and taking his hands. “Not a moment’s rest or happiness have I enjoyed since I learned the dangerous position in which you were placed. Do not doubt the regard I must ever have for you. I have discovered how you have been deceived, and how you were induced to desert your truest friend; I have therefore every excuse for you. I have learned that even in this instance you are guiltless of disloyalty, and, believe me, Harry, however guilty you have been, I should still have looked upon you as a son.”

“You make me desire once more to live,” exclaimed Harry, for the first time perhaps in his life bursting into tears. “I thought no one cared for me. I was prepared to die unknown and unlamented; and oh! tell me, Mr Kyffin, does Mabel know of my condition?—has she discarded me?”

His voice trembled. He looked eagerly in his guardian’s face for a reply.

“No, Harry, indeed she has not discarded you. She is true-hearted.”

“Is there any hope for me—must I suffer as so many unhappy men have done?” gasped out Harry.

“There is hope, my boy. I cannot say for a certainty that you will be saved. Mabel herself obtained from the King a request to his ministers that your life should be spared, and I have seen the governor of the prison, and he believes it confers sufficient authority on him not to deliver you up till his Majesty’s pleasure shall be further known.”

Mr Kyffin then explained to Harry more clearly the particulars of which the reader is already aware. Harry Tryon sank down on his knees, and thanked Heaven from the depth of his heart for the prospect of a release from the ignominious death for which he had been prepared. Alas! he had not often truly prayed. His grandmother had not attempted to teach him even a form of prayer, and seldom, during the life he spent in London had he ever dared to kneel to ask a blessing of his Heavenly Father. He had now, however, learned an important lesson. He had felt his utter helplessness and weakness, and had discovered that when lifting up his heart to God he received a strength and courage which he could by no other means have obtained.

“And Mabel! bless her for what she has done for me! But oh! Mr Kyffin, tell me where is she, how is she?”

“She bears up wonderfully,” answered Mr Kyffin, “and even now she and her kind friend Mrs Barbara Thornborough have gone to Mr Pitt to endeavour, if possible, to see him, and obtain his warrant for your liberation.”

“Then I am sure she will succeed,” exclaimed Harry, joyfully.

“Do not raise your hopes too high, my boy, and yet I would wish to support and encourage you,” remarked Mr Kyffin. “My stay with you now must be short, as I promised to meet Miss Everard after she had had an interview with the minister. Even should he refuse, we must not lose heart. We must bring other influence to bear on him. However, Harry, I know you too well to think that there is any necessity to urge you not to despair. And now farewell. I purpose to return before long. I hope to bring good news, but you must not be disappointed if it is not as good as we wish. This mutiny, so happily quelled has been very serious, and might have proved most disastrous to the country. The nation therefore is naturally little inclined to look with leniency on those who took a part in it, especially on the leaders; and from your having been associated with Parker, you, in the ordinary course, could scarcely expect a pardon.”

Mr Kyffin was gone, and Harry was once more left to his own thoughts. The hours passed wearily by, they seemed longer than any during his imprisonment. Sleep would not visit his eyelids. Anxiously he listened for every sound, hoping for the speedy return of his friend.

Meantime Mabel, who had parted from Mr Kyffin at Mr Thornborough’s house after their return from Windsor, prepared to set out with Mrs Barbara, attended by the two seamen and Paul,—to Mr Pitt’s house at Putney. She waited but a short time to obtain a little refreshment which Mistress Barbara urged on her, and together they drove towards the residence of the minister, while Mr Kyffin proceeded down the river to pay the visit to Harry which has been described.

It was late in the evening when they arrived at the villa. The two ladies, sending up their names, earnestly requested that they might be admitted. Mr Pitt was very much engaged, and could receive no visitors.

“Is Lady Hester at home?” asked Mrs Barbara. “Her Ladyship may remember me,” she observed, turning to Mabel; “if she does, she will, I think, see us, and through her we may press our suit on her uncle.”

The two ladies waited anxiously for the return of the servant.

“Lady Hester will see you, ladies,” was the reply, and Mabel and her friend descended from the carriage.

They were ushered into a handsome drawing-room, where Lady Hester was seated alone at a writing-table.

“I remember you, Mistress Thornborough,” she said, rising and coming forward in a gracious manner. “Tell me, to what cause am I indebted for the honour of this visit?”

“My young friend here will explain it to you,” said Mrs Barbara, now introducing Mabel. “One in whom she is deeply interested has been implicated in the late mutiny at the Nore, and in consequence of proper evidence not having been brought forward which would have proved that he acted under compulsion, he has been condemned to death. We have seen his Majesty, who was acquainted with the young gentleman, and have now come, wishing to see Mr Pitt, with two seamen of the ship on board which he served, who can clearly prove that he was an unwilling participator in what took place. Still time is pressing.”

“I can hold out but slight hopes of Mr Pitt’s interference,” answered Lady Hester. “He sees the importance of preventing the recurrence of such a mutiny by striking a wholesome terror into the minds of the seamen.”

“But surely he would not wish an innocent person to suffer!” exclaimed Mabel. “He can be proved innocent, believe me, your ladyship. The King himself is convinced that he is so. Let me entreat you to beg Mr Pitt to grant a pardon to this young man.”

“You take a warm interest in him,” said Lady Hester, looking at Mabel somewhat harshly.

“Yes, indeed I do, I have known him from his youth,” answered Mabel. “He is true and loyal, and would never have aided so dangerous a conspiracy as this appears to have been, to destroy the naval power of England.”

Lady Hester seemed to relent as she gazed at the young girl. “I am ready to believe you,” she answered, “that this young man is innocent. Tell me, how came he to be on board ship in the capacity of an ordinary seaman?”

Mabel blushed and hesitated.

“Oh, I see how it was,” said Lady Hester; “and now you repent. I will see Mr Pitt, and give him your statement of the case.”

“Then may I beg you to deliver this letter from his Majesty at the same time?” said Mabel, presenting the King’s note.

Lady Hester took the paper, and remarked, as she rose to leave the room, “It may have weight with my uncle, but, at the same time, even the King himself cannot turn him from his will when he has once made up his mind.”

Once more the ladies were left in doubt and anxiety. Mabel could not hope much from Lady Hester’s manner. Mrs Barbara, who had seen her before, argued favourably. Lady Hester was some time absent.

At length the door opened, and she returned, followed by a slightly-built gentleman, scarcely yet of middle age, whose bright eye and broad forehead betokened intellect of no ordinary kind. His manner was somewhat stiff and formal as, bowing to the ladies, who had risen at the entrance of Lady Hester, he took his seat near them.

“You come with a request from his Majesty, I understand, to beg me to interfere in the case of one of the mutineers of the Nore. His Majesty’s commands have always great influence with me; at the same time, you must understand that the matter is one of a most serious character. A great many men have been pardoned who really took a part in the mutiny by supporting their leaders. If the leaders themselves are pardoned, the men will think that, after all, the crime they committed was a slight one,” he observed, in a tone of voice which made Mabel’s heart sink within her.

“But, oh! sir,” she exclaimed, pressing her hands before her in a pleading attitude, “but this young man, Andrew Brown, for by that name he is known, was not guilty of any evil intentions.”

Mabel repeated the statement she had already made to the King.

“You plead his cause earnestly young lady,” said the minister, “and right well, too. Let me see these witnesses, and if they give a satisfactory statement, I will recommend the young man as a fit subject for his Majesty’s clemency. I cannot reverse the judgment of the court, you must remember. If that condemned him, condemned he must be, but his Majesty can exert his prerogative of mercy, and both save his life and obtain his release.”

“Oh! thank you, sir, thank you,” exclaimed Mabel, expressing by her looks more than by her words what she felt.

The minister rang the bell, and ordered the two seamen to be admitted. In a short time there was a scuffling outside. The door opened, and Jacob Tuttle and Jack Veal appeared, one urging on the other, as if neither liked to be the first to enter. They held their hats in their hands, pulling away at their locks as they would have done addressing an officer on the quarter-deck. Lady Hester looked on with an amused countenance as the minister cross-questioned them as to the part their shipmate had taken in the mutiny.

“He took no part at all, please you, sir, for I don’t call writing letters with a pistol held at a man’s head taking part in the mutiny, and I know for certain that he hated it as much as any one. Besides, sir, when we proposed striking the red flag, and carrying the ship up the river, he heartily joined the loyal part of the crew, and a pretty severe tussle we had, too, before we got possession of the ship and handed it over to the officers.”

Jack Veal corroborated what Jacob had said, and Mr Pitt drew forth a considerable amount of further evidence which satisfied him that if these witnesses spoke the truth, Andrew Brown’s guilt was not of a nature to merit death. At last he turned to Mabel.

“I have no hesitation in recommending his Majesty to pardon the young man in whom you are interested. His story is, I have no doubt, a romantic one, and I do not wish to add to the romance by allowing him to finish his career at the yard-arm. You need have no fear, therefore, young lady, on that score. I will send down a reprieve, and will also give you a paper, which will secure a full pardon for your friend on being signed by his Majesty. I must wish you good evening, and I am glad that my niece, Lady Hester, who is staying with me for a few days, has brought the matter before my notice.”

Without waiting to hear the expressions of gratitude which Mabel and Mrs Barbara felt disposed to pour forth, the great minister left the room. Lady Hester warmly congratulated them on the success of their mission, and assured them that she cordially sympathised with them. Jacob, forgetting where he was, on hearing that Harry was to be pardoned, threw up his hat, and in his delight uttered a loud shout exclaiming—

“Bless you, my lady! Bless Mr Pitt, and the King, and all the Royal Family! If I had as many lives as a cat, I would gladly spend them all in the service of so good a King and so noble a minister.”

On entering the carriage, Mabel sank back into the arms of Mrs Barbara, and gave way to her feelings in a flood of tears.

“Oh, he will be saved!” she exclaimed; “I scarcely dared hope it till now.”

At length Mabel appeared somewhat to recover her composure, and worn out by anxiety of mind and the fatigue she had gone through, at length sank to sleep in the arms of her friend. They did not reach home till a late hour. Scarcely conscious, Mabel was carried to bed. Her dreams were far more happy than they had been for many a day. She and her kind friend looked forward with anxiety to the return of Mr Kyffin on the following day. He arrived before noon with the intelligence that the governor of the prison had received the minister’s reprieve for Harry. That afternoon had been fixed for the review of the volunteers in Hyde Park. Mabel felt sure that his Majesty would, if he had an opportunity, immediately sign the pardon which the minister had given her.

It was a lovely day. The sun shone brightly forth from an unclouded sky, and from the various avenues of approach troops marched up to the ground preceded by their bands of music and colours flying—infantry, cavalry, and artillery. The most numerous corps was that of the City Light Horse. Some of the companies, however, were dismounted and marched on foot. Others came in long cars, with their rifles between their knees, while a band of well-equipped horsemen rode up at the head of the regiment, their glittering arms and handsome dresses distinguishing them from the men of other corps. The privates, as well as the officers, were all gentlemen, a considerable number of them men of fortune and independence. One spirit animated every regiment alike—ardent love of their country, and a determination, if called upon, to fight bravely and to die in her defence.

Mr Kyffin and Mabel waited for a favourable opportunity of approaching the King, for Mabel’s anxiety would brook no delay, and she was afraid that he might return to Windsor without signing the paper.

At length the King drew up, preparatory to the troops marching past. The time seemed favourable, as there was an open space near his Majesty by which she could approach. Dressed in deep mourning, and leaning on Mr Kyffin’s arm, her countenance radiant with beauty, her colour heightened by excitement, she drew near to the King. One of the equerries observing her, inquired what she wanted.

“It is not the right moment to approach his Majesty,” he answered.

The King, hearing what was said, turned his head, and seeing her, exclaimed—

“Ah! my dear young lady, how can I help you? What is it? Will not Mr Pitt advise me to pardon the young mutineer?”

“Oh! yes, your Majesty. He has given me a proper document which only requires your Majesty’s signature, but every moment is of consequence. It is cruel to have him kept in that dreadful prison, and I dread lest by any mistake he may be carried off and executed.”

Mabel could scarcely bring herself to utter these words. The King smiled.

“No fear of that, I trust, my sweet young lady, but I will sign the paper. Go and wait for me at Saint James’s; as soon as this affair is over I will come there. Lord So-and-so,” he said, turning to one of his equerries, “remind me that I have a paper to sign; it is for that young lady; you will not forget it now.”

The equerry turned to Mabel and bowed low.

The colour which had left her cheeks rose again in them, for the look cast on her was full of intense admiration. Mr Kyffin whispered to Mabel that she must not press the matter further, and bowing to the King, who gave a kind parting word to Mabel, they retired from among the glittering throng of military officers.

Chapter Twenty Seven.Silas Sleech Departs from the Scene.—How Mr Sleech enjoyed his Possession of Stanmore.Prisons even in those days were fearful dens, although considerably improved by the exertions of the noble Howard. In an ill-ventilated room with grated windows, on a straw pallet, sat a young man. His cheeks had gained the prison paleness. A frown was on his brow, and an expression on his countenance, which betokened numerous bad passions. Several other persons were in the room, which was closed by a strong door, barred and locked. Five or six other pallets, a rickety table, and several three-legged stools completed the furniture of the apartment. The young man’s companions had apparently been amusing themselves at his expense. The more angry he became, the more they laughed and jeered.“Laugh while you may,” he growled out. “You will laugh on the wrong side of your mouth when dragged out to Tyburn. I can, even now, fancy I see you dangling on the gibbet, and more thorough jailbirds have never been taken out to be hung!”These remarks, of course, produced retorts of equal bitterness.“As to me, I have no fear of the sort,” at length exclaimed the young man. “To be accused of a crime and to be proved guilty are two different things. No evidence can be brought against me—of that I am certain.”While he was speaking, the door opened, and the jailer appeared, a couple of armed guards standing behind him. The prisoners gazed at him anxiously; although none of them were convicted, yet all of them in that chamber were accused of capital offences, and each supposed that it might be his turn to be led forth for trial. Most of them knew pretty well that it would be the last scene but one of their existence. The last would be on the scaffold at Tyburn.“It is an old gentleman wants to see you,” said the jailer, looking at the young man on the pallet bed. “Now you others, behave civilly to him, or I will be down upon you,” he added, turning to the other prisoners.As he spoke, Mr Sleech, the owner of Stanmore, entered the prison room.“Oh! is it you?” said the young man, looking at Mr Sleech. “Well, I am glad you have come at last. Here, there’s room for two of us; sit down. It is not a handsome reception-room, and my attendants are somewhat noisy. We must take things as they are. Well, what news?”Old Mr Sleech was no stranger to similar scenes. He had often visited jails professionally to consult with his clients, but the case in this instance was somewhat altered. The prisoner he now came to see was his own son Silas. It might have occurred to him that he had not brought him up in the way that an honest man should go. The other prisoners, hardened villains most of them, were gathering round with the intention of mocking at the old man.“He is my father!” said Silas, rising with a greater approach to dignity than he had yet exhibited. “Some of you have fathers. If one of them was to come and see you, you would not like the others to stand round and see him insulted.”The address had its effect, and the ruffians, in spite of the inclination exhibited by one or two to continue their sport, retired to the farther end of the room, where they sat down at the rickety table. One of them pulling out a greasy pack of cards, they commenced playing.“How did you manage to get yourself into this trouble?” asked old Sleech; “I thought you were too wise for that.”“My wisdom will be shown in getting out of it,” answered Silas. “I played a somewhat bold game, and might have made a false move or two, but it cannot be helped now. There will be no evidence brought against me, I am very sure of that Young Harry Tryon went aboard ship, you know that. Well, besides, he was on board the ‘Sandwich,’ and Parker mixed him well up in the mutiny. He was seen with him at the dockyard at Sheerness. I learned all that from an acquaintance of mine—young Gilby. He saw him with his own eyes, so there’s no doubt about it.”“He may have been mistaken,” observed old Sleech.“Not a bit of it,” said his son, “he knows Harry almost as well as I do. He has met him scores of times, both at Mr Coppinger’s house and at some of the places which Harry used to frequent. Never fear, it is all right; I shall soon be out of this, and down at Stanmore to enjoy myself. I say, father, we shall want a little ready money to keep up the game. We must make the old trees fall right and left, and you know, at a pinch, you and I can sell a few dirty acres. In my opinion there is nothing like enjoying a thing when we have got it.”The further conversation between the father and his estimable son need not be repeated. Silas had fallen considerably in his parent’s estimation since he had so committed himself as to get into prison. He was, also, not quite so sanguine as his son was as to the result of the trial; but he performed a parent’s part in securing the best counsel to be obtained. He also made interest with the governor to procure a better room and superior food for his son. Silas did not, however, exhibit the gratitude which might have been expected.“It would not do to let the heir of Stanmore dangle on a gibbet, eh, dad, would it?” he observed, when his father told him what he had done. “No chance of that, or I could not joke on the subject.”The day of the trial arrived. Silas Sleech stood at the bar. He gazed round the court with an air of confidence, and nodded familiarly to some of his acquaintances. His eye fell for a moment as he encountered the stern glance of Mr Coppinger, Mr Kyffin, and other persons who had been brought in as evidence against him. The case was gone into. He was ably defended, and his counsel laid great stress on the non-appearance of the person whose signature he was said to have forged, and whose ruin it appeared he had taken great pains to effect. Silas smiled as he heard these remarks, and attempted to throw an expression of injured innocence into his countenance. The counsel for the Crown replied; but the defence made by the defendant’s counsel seemed to have great weight with the jury, when there was a slight movement in the court. A slip of paper was put into the hand of the Crown counsel. He turned round and spoke a few words to a well-dressed young man, who had at that time entered.“The defendant declares,” he observed, “that no evidence can be brought forward to prove that he forged the signature of Mr Stephen Coppinger, asserting that it was the act of another person. Here stands that other person, whose statement you will hear. I produce him as a witness; should you consider him unworthy of belief, you will acquit the prisoner; if not, I am ready to prove that no other person than Silas Sleech, the prisoner at the bar, could have committed the forgery.”As Silas caught sight of the countenance of the young man, he gazed at him as at one risen from the dead, and a sudden tremor seized his frame.“He knows I did not do it; he knows I did not,” he gasped out; but Harry Tryon took no notice of him.Harry briefly and clearly gave an account of the circumstances with which the reader is already acquainted.The jury were perfectly satisfied of the guilt of the prisoner.“But he is a convicted felon, he cannot be brought as evidence against me. He was one of the mutineers of the Nore. He ought to have been hung with his companion Parker.”“The prisoner is mistaken, my lord,” said Mr Kyffin; “the young gentleman is as free as any one in this court. He is my ward, and I am sure that his name will not be found among the mutineers of the Nore.”The jury returned a verdict of guilty, but recommended the prisoner to mercy. In spite of Sleech’s criminality, Mr Coppinger and others exerted themselves, and the sentence of death was commuted to that of transportation for life, and Mr Silas Sleech was among the next batch of prisoners shipped off on board a convict ship for Botany Bay. Mr Tony Sleech did not allow his heart to break at the loss of his son. He was legally dead, and his next boy must, therefore, be the heir of Stanmore. He was of a somewhat more hopeful character than Silas, though not possessing the same amount of talent. He was a dunce, indeed, in his father’s estimation, and had been so in that of his school companions. He had, however, sense enough to appreciate the change of position from a younger son to that of the heir of a fine estate, and very soon gave himself so many airs that his brothers and sisters could not help having a secret wish that he might be despatched after Silas.The cost of his son’s defence had been very considerable, and Mr Sleech therefore considered it desirable to repay himself by cutting down more of the Stanmore trees, although the proceeds were not to be expended in the way Silas had proposed.He was one day, soon after his return to Stanmore, superintending this proceeding, when Mr Wallace arrived at the park, and proceeded into the grounds to look for him. The two lawyers bowed stiffly to each other.“I have come, Mr Sleech,” said the other, “on the part of my client, towarnyou of the danger of your proceeding. For every tree that falls you will be made responsible. I have thorough confidence that Captain Everard will ere long prove his right to the property.”“No danger at all about the matter, my good sir,” answered Mr Sleech, with an air of indifference which he did not altogether feel. “I have a right over these trees, and have determined to cut them down, and therefore, I say, let any man interfere with me if he dare.”“We are not going to proceed by force, Mr Sleech,” answered Mr Wallace, “we are not driven to that; but I again repeat that, not only will you be compelled to pay the value of every tree which you cut down, but also you will be heavily fined for the damage which you have committed on the property.”“I will stand the consequences,” repeated Sleech, but his voice somewhat failed him as he spoke.Mr Wallace marked it.“Well,” he said, “my good sir, we are fellow-townsmen, and though often professionally opposed to each other, I speak to you as a friend. Be warned in time. Your son has been dealt leniently with, and has escaped death, but depend upon it, if you persist in injuring this estate, you will be made to pay heavily in purse. No mercy will be shown you, I can assure you.”Saying this, Mr Wallace bowed to his brother lawyer, and without further ceremony took his way back to the house. Mr Sleech soon afterwards proceeded in the same direction, doubtful, apparently, what course to pursue.“I won’t be bullied,” he said to himself, “and yet they seem pretty confident. I don’t quite like the look of matters.”Scarcely had Mr Sleech left the wood when another person appeared on the scene. Paul Gauntlett was well known to all the labourers around. He walked up, armed as usual with a stout cudgel. He might have been seen day after day since his return from London walking round and round the grounds, just outside, evidently considering that he was acting in some way as guardian of the place.Madam Everard had warned him that he could not legally enter it. As, however, he saw from a distance the tall boughs of the trees falling towards the ground, he could resist no longer.“You are employed on a fine work, my friends,” he said, gazing round him. “What now would you say if you saw the colonel standing in the midst of you? He would be wonderfully pleased at seeing these shady trees which he loved so well cut down one after the other at the beck of a pettifogging attorney. That is what Mr Sleech is, even though he has got into the big house here. That is what he will ever remain. But I tell you what, lads, he will not hold Stanmore long. Of that I am very certain. The captain will have his own again before many weeks are over, mark me. Now I say, I don’t want to take the bread out of your mouths, but if any of you can get better work than this, I say go and take it. I shall mark every man who stays on here, and he may never expect another day’s work on Stanmore as long as I live, if he lays his hand against one of these trees after I have warned him. There never was a better master than the colonel; and the captain, his nephew, is likely to be every bit as good a one. Now, boys, just take your own course, you have heard what I have got to say. What will you do? There is Farmer Giles and Farmer Jobson, and Mr Timmins, down at the mill, and twenty others want hands. You will all get as good wages as this old skinflint can pay you, and be employed in an honest way.”Paul’s address had a great effect among the labourers. They consulted together for some time, and one after the other agreed that they would not again lay an axe against the root of one of the trees of Stanmore. A few held out. They had got work and did not see why some old trees should not come down at the bidding of one man as well as that of another.“Take your own way,” answered Paul. “If the trees fall, some one will have to pay, and you will not forget my words.”Several of the men shouldered their axes and prepared to move.“I would sooner lose a week’s work than offend the captain,” exclaimed one.“Well said, John Hobby, you are a true man,” exclaimed Paul. “To my mind none of you will have to lose a day’s work. I don’t make promises for other people, but my opinion is that a generous, open-handed man like the captain would not let a fellow suffer for being true to him.”“Hurrah! I will not lift an axe against another tree in this place till the captain orders me,” cried Hobby.“Nor I, nor I, nor I,” answered others.The whole party with one accord, headed by Paul Gauntlett, marched off the ground, leaving four or five trees where they lay, with their branches still attached to them. There seemed no probability of more of the timber of Stanmore being felled that day, or perhaps for some days to come.We must now return to Mr Thornborough’s house in London. Mabel was staying with her godfather and his kind sister. After she had obtained the King’s signature for his pardon, though feeling certain that he would be released, her nerves at length gave way, and she was utterly unable to accompany Mr Kyffin, as she wished to do, to carry the pardon down to him. She therefore returned to Mr Thornborough’s house, while Mr Kyffin again went down the banks of the Thames to the prison ship. Mr Kyffin had a double reason for haste. He was less anxious, possibly, than Mabel, on account of Harry’s safety, for he felt sure that that was secured; but the next day had been fixed for the trial of Silas Sleech, and he wished to obtain his ward’s evidence, without which he foresaw that the conviction of the culprit was very uncertain. Harry could scarcely believe that he was at liberty, though he saw the prison door open, and his guardian, accompanied by the governor of the prison and other officials who had come to set him at liberty. They were soon on shore, and at the inn where Mr Kyffin had left his carriage. He had thoughtfully brought a suit of clothes for Harry, who, with a satisfaction which can be best understood by those who have suffered as he had done, having gone through a thorough ablution, once more dressed himself as a gentleman. He was pale, but in other respects greatly improved. His figure was fuller, and his appearance more manly. His arrival in court, in time to secure Silas Sleech’s conviction, has already been described. Mabel was all day in a state of nervous agitation. Frequently when Mrs Barbara addressed her she scarcely understood what was said. When she took up a book, her eyes ran over the pages without reading a line. She tried to work, but her fingers refused to move. Mrs Barbara observed her state. “Poor girl,” she thought, “how wonderful it is that she should love that young man so much.” A carriage stopped at the door. She endeavoured to rise, but found it impossible to move. She drew her breath quickly. The door opened, and a middle-aged gentleman entered. She lifted up her head. In an instant she was in his arms.“Oh! papa, this is almost too much for me,” she exclaimed, as Captain Everard returned her embrace. In a few words he told her what had occurred. “But the loss of Stanmore is a severe blow,” he observed.“Oh! for me it is nothing,” answered Mabel; “I feel for you, though that cannot take away your position as a post-captain.”“No, indeed,” answered the captain, “it is a position a man may well be proud of.”“And as for the fortune, my little god-daughter must not be without something,” observed Mr Thornborough. “Here, Barbara, give her that paper. A present is better than a bequest, and I have had the amount transferred to her name in the funds.”Mabel’s eyes were too full of tears to distinguish clearly what was written on the paper, though she could make out the sum of 10,000 pounds. She was springing forward to thank her godfather, when another carriage drove up to the door. Again the drawing-room door opened, and two gentlemen entered. This time Mabel did not spring into the arms of either of them, but she stood for an instant motionless till the youngest advanced towards her. Then unconsciously forgetting that any one else was present, she lifted up her arms and let them fall on the young man’s shoulders.“What! Andrew Brown, the brave seaman who saved my life?” exclaimed Captain Everard. “But can it be? I wonder that all that time I did not recognise my young friend Harry Tryon.”

Prisons even in those days were fearful dens, although considerably improved by the exertions of the noble Howard. In an ill-ventilated room with grated windows, on a straw pallet, sat a young man. His cheeks had gained the prison paleness. A frown was on his brow, and an expression on his countenance, which betokened numerous bad passions. Several other persons were in the room, which was closed by a strong door, barred and locked. Five or six other pallets, a rickety table, and several three-legged stools completed the furniture of the apartment. The young man’s companions had apparently been amusing themselves at his expense. The more angry he became, the more they laughed and jeered.

“Laugh while you may,” he growled out. “You will laugh on the wrong side of your mouth when dragged out to Tyburn. I can, even now, fancy I see you dangling on the gibbet, and more thorough jailbirds have never been taken out to be hung!”

These remarks, of course, produced retorts of equal bitterness.

“As to me, I have no fear of the sort,” at length exclaimed the young man. “To be accused of a crime and to be proved guilty are two different things. No evidence can be brought against me—of that I am certain.”

While he was speaking, the door opened, and the jailer appeared, a couple of armed guards standing behind him. The prisoners gazed at him anxiously; although none of them were convicted, yet all of them in that chamber were accused of capital offences, and each supposed that it might be his turn to be led forth for trial. Most of them knew pretty well that it would be the last scene but one of their existence. The last would be on the scaffold at Tyburn.

“It is an old gentleman wants to see you,” said the jailer, looking at the young man on the pallet bed. “Now you others, behave civilly to him, or I will be down upon you,” he added, turning to the other prisoners.

As he spoke, Mr Sleech, the owner of Stanmore, entered the prison room.

“Oh! is it you?” said the young man, looking at Mr Sleech. “Well, I am glad you have come at last. Here, there’s room for two of us; sit down. It is not a handsome reception-room, and my attendants are somewhat noisy. We must take things as they are. Well, what news?”

Old Mr Sleech was no stranger to similar scenes. He had often visited jails professionally to consult with his clients, but the case in this instance was somewhat altered. The prisoner he now came to see was his own son Silas. It might have occurred to him that he had not brought him up in the way that an honest man should go. The other prisoners, hardened villains most of them, were gathering round with the intention of mocking at the old man.

“He is my father!” said Silas, rising with a greater approach to dignity than he had yet exhibited. “Some of you have fathers. If one of them was to come and see you, you would not like the others to stand round and see him insulted.”

The address had its effect, and the ruffians, in spite of the inclination exhibited by one or two to continue their sport, retired to the farther end of the room, where they sat down at the rickety table. One of them pulling out a greasy pack of cards, they commenced playing.

“How did you manage to get yourself into this trouble?” asked old Sleech; “I thought you were too wise for that.”

“My wisdom will be shown in getting out of it,” answered Silas. “I played a somewhat bold game, and might have made a false move or two, but it cannot be helped now. There will be no evidence brought against me, I am very sure of that Young Harry Tryon went aboard ship, you know that. Well, besides, he was on board the ‘Sandwich,’ and Parker mixed him well up in the mutiny. He was seen with him at the dockyard at Sheerness. I learned all that from an acquaintance of mine—young Gilby. He saw him with his own eyes, so there’s no doubt about it.”

“He may have been mistaken,” observed old Sleech.

“Not a bit of it,” said his son, “he knows Harry almost as well as I do. He has met him scores of times, both at Mr Coppinger’s house and at some of the places which Harry used to frequent. Never fear, it is all right; I shall soon be out of this, and down at Stanmore to enjoy myself. I say, father, we shall want a little ready money to keep up the game. We must make the old trees fall right and left, and you know, at a pinch, you and I can sell a few dirty acres. In my opinion there is nothing like enjoying a thing when we have got it.”

The further conversation between the father and his estimable son need not be repeated. Silas had fallen considerably in his parent’s estimation since he had so committed himself as to get into prison. He was, also, not quite so sanguine as his son was as to the result of the trial; but he performed a parent’s part in securing the best counsel to be obtained. He also made interest with the governor to procure a better room and superior food for his son. Silas did not, however, exhibit the gratitude which might have been expected.

“It would not do to let the heir of Stanmore dangle on a gibbet, eh, dad, would it?” he observed, when his father told him what he had done. “No chance of that, or I could not joke on the subject.”

The day of the trial arrived. Silas Sleech stood at the bar. He gazed round the court with an air of confidence, and nodded familiarly to some of his acquaintances. His eye fell for a moment as he encountered the stern glance of Mr Coppinger, Mr Kyffin, and other persons who had been brought in as evidence against him. The case was gone into. He was ably defended, and his counsel laid great stress on the non-appearance of the person whose signature he was said to have forged, and whose ruin it appeared he had taken great pains to effect. Silas smiled as he heard these remarks, and attempted to throw an expression of injured innocence into his countenance. The counsel for the Crown replied; but the defence made by the defendant’s counsel seemed to have great weight with the jury, when there was a slight movement in the court. A slip of paper was put into the hand of the Crown counsel. He turned round and spoke a few words to a well-dressed young man, who had at that time entered.

“The defendant declares,” he observed, “that no evidence can be brought forward to prove that he forged the signature of Mr Stephen Coppinger, asserting that it was the act of another person. Here stands that other person, whose statement you will hear. I produce him as a witness; should you consider him unworthy of belief, you will acquit the prisoner; if not, I am ready to prove that no other person than Silas Sleech, the prisoner at the bar, could have committed the forgery.”

As Silas caught sight of the countenance of the young man, he gazed at him as at one risen from the dead, and a sudden tremor seized his frame.

“He knows I did not do it; he knows I did not,” he gasped out; but Harry Tryon took no notice of him.

Harry briefly and clearly gave an account of the circumstances with which the reader is already acquainted.

The jury were perfectly satisfied of the guilt of the prisoner.

“But he is a convicted felon, he cannot be brought as evidence against me. He was one of the mutineers of the Nore. He ought to have been hung with his companion Parker.”

“The prisoner is mistaken, my lord,” said Mr Kyffin; “the young gentleman is as free as any one in this court. He is my ward, and I am sure that his name will not be found among the mutineers of the Nore.”

The jury returned a verdict of guilty, but recommended the prisoner to mercy. In spite of Sleech’s criminality, Mr Coppinger and others exerted themselves, and the sentence of death was commuted to that of transportation for life, and Mr Silas Sleech was among the next batch of prisoners shipped off on board a convict ship for Botany Bay. Mr Tony Sleech did not allow his heart to break at the loss of his son. He was legally dead, and his next boy must, therefore, be the heir of Stanmore. He was of a somewhat more hopeful character than Silas, though not possessing the same amount of talent. He was a dunce, indeed, in his father’s estimation, and had been so in that of his school companions. He had, however, sense enough to appreciate the change of position from a younger son to that of the heir of a fine estate, and very soon gave himself so many airs that his brothers and sisters could not help having a secret wish that he might be despatched after Silas.

The cost of his son’s defence had been very considerable, and Mr Sleech therefore considered it desirable to repay himself by cutting down more of the Stanmore trees, although the proceeds were not to be expended in the way Silas had proposed.

He was one day, soon after his return to Stanmore, superintending this proceeding, when Mr Wallace arrived at the park, and proceeded into the grounds to look for him. The two lawyers bowed stiffly to each other.

“I have come, Mr Sleech,” said the other, “on the part of my client, towarnyou of the danger of your proceeding. For every tree that falls you will be made responsible. I have thorough confidence that Captain Everard will ere long prove his right to the property.”

“No danger at all about the matter, my good sir,” answered Mr Sleech, with an air of indifference which he did not altogether feel. “I have a right over these trees, and have determined to cut them down, and therefore, I say, let any man interfere with me if he dare.”

“We are not going to proceed by force, Mr Sleech,” answered Mr Wallace, “we are not driven to that; but I again repeat that, not only will you be compelled to pay the value of every tree which you cut down, but also you will be heavily fined for the damage which you have committed on the property.”

“I will stand the consequences,” repeated Sleech, but his voice somewhat failed him as he spoke.

Mr Wallace marked it.

“Well,” he said, “my good sir, we are fellow-townsmen, and though often professionally opposed to each other, I speak to you as a friend. Be warned in time. Your son has been dealt leniently with, and has escaped death, but depend upon it, if you persist in injuring this estate, you will be made to pay heavily in purse. No mercy will be shown you, I can assure you.”

Saying this, Mr Wallace bowed to his brother lawyer, and without further ceremony took his way back to the house. Mr Sleech soon afterwards proceeded in the same direction, doubtful, apparently, what course to pursue.

“I won’t be bullied,” he said to himself, “and yet they seem pretty confident. I don’t quite like the look of matters.”

Scarcely had Mr Sleech left the wood when another person appeared on the scene. Paul Gauntlett was well known to all the labourers around. He walked up, armed as usual with a stout cudgel. He might have been seen day after day since his return from London walking round and round the grounds, just outside, evidently considering that he was acting in some way as guardian of the place.

Madam Everard had warned him that he could not legally enter it. As, however, he saw from a distance the tall boughs of the trees falling towards the ground, he could resist no longer.

“You are employed on a fine work, my friends,” he said, gazing round him. “What now would you say if you saw the colonel standing in the midst of you? He would be wonderfully pleased at seeing these shady trees which he loved so well cut down one after the other at the beck of a pettifogging attorney. That is what Mr Sleech is, even though he has got into the big house here. That is what he will ever remain. But I tell you what, lads, he will not hold Stanmore long. Of that I am very certain. The captain will have his own again before many weeks are over, mark me. Now I say, I don’t want to take the bread out of your mouths, but if any of you can get better work than this, I say go and take it. I shall mark every man who stays on here, and he may never expect another day’s work on Stanmore as long as I live, if he lays his hand against one of these trees after I have warned him. There never was a better master than the colonel; and the captain, his nephew, is likely to be every bit as good a one. Now, boys, just take your own course, you have heard what I have got to say. What will you do? There is Farmer Giles and Farmer Jobson, and Mr Timmins, down at the mill, and twenty others want hands. You will all get as good wages as this old skinflint can pay you, and be employed in an honest way.”

Paul’s address had a great effect among the labourers. They consulted together for some time, and one after the other agreed that they would not again lay an axe against the root of one of the trees of Stanmore. A few held out. They had got work and did not see why some old trees should not come down at the bidding of one man as well as that of another.

“Take your own way,” answered Paul. “If the trees fall, some one will have to pay, and you will not forget my words.”

Several of the men shouldered their axes and prepared to move.

“I would sooner lose a week’s work than offend the captain,” exclaimed one.

“Well said, John Hobby, you are a true man,” exclaimed Paul. “To my mind none of you will have to lose a day’s work. I don’t make promises for other people, but my opinion is that a generous, open-handed man like the captain would not let a fellow suffer for being true to him.”

“Hurrah! I will not lift an axe against another tree in this place till the captain orders me,” cried Hobby.

“Nor I, nor I, nor I,” answered others.

The whole party with one accord, headed by Paul Gauntlett, marched off the ground, leaving four or five trees where they lay, with their branches still attached to them. There seemed no probability of more of the timber of Stanmore being felled that day, or perhaps for some days to come.

We must now return to Mr Thornborough’s house in London. Mabel was staying with her godfather and his kind sister. After she had obtained the King’s signature for his pardon, though feeling certain that he would be released, her nerves at length gave way, and she was utterly unable to accompany Mr Kyffin, as she wished to do, to carry the pardon down to him. She therefore returned to Mr Thornborough’s house, while Mr Kyffin again went down the banks of the Thames to the prison ship. Mr Kyffin had a double reason for haste. He was less anxious, possibly, than Mabel, on account of Harry’s safety, for he felt sure that that was secured; but the next day had been fixed for the trial of Silas Sleech, and he wished to obtain his ward’s evidence, without which he foresaw that the conviction of the culprit was very uncertain. Harry could scarcely believe that he was at liberty, though he saw the prison door open, and his guardian, accompanied by the governor of the prison and other officials who had come to set him at liberty. They were soon on shore, and at the inn where Mr Kyffin had left his carriage. He had thoughtfully brought a suit of clothes for Harry, who, with a satisfaction which can be best understood by those who have suffered as he had done, having gone through a thorough ablution, once more dressed himself as a gentleman. He was pale, but in other respects greatly improved. His figure was fuller, and his appearance more manly. His arrival in court, in time to secure Silas Sleech’s conviction, has already been described. Mabel was all day in a state of nervous agitation. Frequently when Mrs Barbara addressed her she scarcely understood what was said. When she took up a book, her eyes ran over the pages without reading a line. She tried to work, but her fingers refused to move. Mrs Barbara observed her state. “Poor girl,” she thought, “how wonderful it is that she should love that young man so much.” A carriage stopped at the door. She endeavoured to rise, but found it impossible to move. She drew her breath quickly. The door opened, and a middle-aged gentleman entered. She lifted up her head. In an instant she was in his arms.

“Oh! papa, this is almost too much for me,” she exclaimed, as Captain Everard returned her embrace. In a few words he told her what had occurred. “But the loss of Stanmore is a severe blow,” he observed.

“Oh! for me it is nothing,” answered Mabel; “I feel for you, though that cannot take away your position as a post-captain.”

“No, indeed,” answered the captain, “it is a position a man may well be proud of.”

“And as for the fortune, my little god-daughter must not be without something,” observed Mr Thornborough. “Here, Barbara, give her that paper. A present is better than a bequest, and I have had the amount transferred to her name in the funds.”

Mabel’s eyes were too full of tears to distinguish clearly what was written on the paper, though she could make out the sum of 10,000 pounds. She was springing forward to thank her godfather, when another carriage drove up to the door. Again the drawing-room door opened, and two gentlemen entered. This time Mabel did not spring into the arms of either of them, but she stood for an instant motionless till the youngest advanced towards her. Then unconsciously forgetting that any one else was present, she lifted up her arms and let them fall on the young man’s shoulders.

“What! Andrew Brown, the brave seaman who saved my life?” exclaimed Captain Everard. “But can it be? I wonder that all that time I did not recognise my young friend Harry Tryon.”

Chapter Twenty Eight.The Wreck of the Lugger, and what came of it.For upwards of a week Roger Kyffin had been absent from Idol Lane, during which time he had never left his house at Hampstead. The doctor, however, paid frequent visits, sometimes thrice a day; once he remained during the greater part of the night. The Misses Coppinger also frequently drove over, and on one occasion Mr Coppinger himself rode all the way to Hampstead to inquire for Mr Kyffin’s sick friend, for Mr Kyffin himself was in perfect health; indeed, he had never had an hour’s illness since he was a boy. No mother could have attended a child with more care and solicitude than did Roger Kyffin his guest. That guest was Harry Tryon. The day after his release from the prison ship he was seized with illness—his tongue was parched, his limbs ached, he was unable to raise his head from his pillow. The doctor thought that he was suffering, it might be, from the jail fever. Harry’s nerves had also been severely tried. What with the fatigue and anxiety he had gone through, the feeling of shame and remorse for his folly had at length completely overcome him. For several days he appeared to be hovering between life and death.“Oh! Mr Kyffin, I am unworthy of you, I feel that I have disgraced you, and Mabel, too; when she knows about me, she, too, will see that I am unworthy of her love. How can she ever have confidence in a man who has shown himself so weak, who has committed so many follies, and who has been so easily led astray by designing knaves? How could I for a moment have trusted such a person as that unhappy man Sleech? Why did I not at once perceive the aims of Parker, who, however, was a thousand times superior to the other fellow?”“My dear boy,” said Mr Kyffin, ”‘let bygones be bygones.’ You have had a good deal of experience in life, and have paid dearly for it, and now I pray God that you may be restored to health and be wiser for the future.”“I see no hope for life in me,” answered Harry, “Mabel can never be mine.”This was said as the fever was coming upon him before he broke down altogether. Mr Kyffin saw that reasoning or expostulation under the circumstances would avail nothing. He did his best therefore merely to soothe the poor lad. From his heart he pitied him, and loved him more than ever. Mabel had returned to Lynderton with her father. She was not told of Harry’s desperate illness. Indeed, she could not be permitted to see him for fear of catching the fever. She had fully expected that he would write, and perhaps she suffered more from being left in doubt than if she had been told the truth. At length, a fine constitution, under the doctor’s care, by God’s mercy brought him through. As soon as he was sufficiently recovered to be moved, Mr Kyffin was anxious to give him change of air. The cottage where he was born was vacant, and Mr Kyffin begged his old friend Doctor Jessop to fit it up for him. “His native air, and the doctor who knows him so well, will afford him the best chance of perfect recovery,” the kind man thought to himself, so he and Harry set forth towards Lynderton. Once more Harry took up his abode at the cottage where he first saw the light. He sat in the room with his old friend where his mother had died. A faint recollection of her came across him. He could even fancy he saw her slight figure as she sat in the porch watching his gambols on the lawn, or as she stood at the gate while he and the nursemaid set forth on their daily walk. The fresh autumn air soon restored vigour to his limbs and sent new life through his veins. Doctor Jessop prescribed frequent walks on the open downs above the cliffs.“All fear of infection will by that time be blown away,” he observed. “For my part, I believe there has been no real danger since you left London. However, we cannot be too cautious in such matters.”“And may I then see Mabel—Miss Everard?” he asked.The doctor smiled.“That may be as her father wishes,” he answered. “Certainly you will run no risk of giving her the fever, if that is what you mean. Perhaps I may be able to drive you there some day, not just yet though, and you are certainly not strong enough to walk so far.”The weather had changed lately, and become very boisterous, but the stronger it blew the more Harry enjoyed his walks on the cliffs.—Generally Mr Kyffin accompanied him. One evening, however, it having rained all the afternoon, he went out later than usual. The air was fresh and pure, and he was tempted to continue his walk much farther than he generally went. At length, growing somewhat weary, he sat himself down in a hollow of the downs. The sun had hitherto been concealed, but at length it shone forth below a mass of clouds which hung overhead, and appeared floating as it were above the horizon, a vast ball of liquid fire. Gradually it sank over Portland Head, leaving the western sky glowing with a ruddy hue. Harry sat on, lost in thought. Now a fresh bank of clouds rose out of the horizon, and joining those that hung overhead, completely obscured the sky. Twilight came on more rapidly than usual, it seemed, as the wind increased, and the clouds rushed by in thick masses overhead. At last Harry became conscious that time had sped by, and the waning light warned him of the rapid approach of night. He knew the way well enough. At the same time there were several difficult places which he would have preferred passing in daylight. He hurried homeward along the cliff, but the darkness increased, and at length, reaching a path which led down to the beach, and recollecting that the tide was out, he descended by it, intending to continue his walk that way homeward. It was soon so dark that he could with difficulty see his way along the shore. Still, he found it somewhat tedious work walking along the beach, and upwards of an hour passed away after it became dark before, according to his calculation, he had reached that part of the beach which lay below the cottage. Just as he was about to turn away inland the sound of a gun came in from the sea. Another and another report followed. He stood for a few minutes wondering from what vessel the guns were fired. Presently his eye caught sight of the flashes. Several others followed. The vessel firing was drawing nearer and nearer. He could not bring himself to leave the shore, hoping that Mr Kyffin would not be alarmed by his absence. The wind whistled loudly. The seas came rolling in heavily on the beach, bursting with loud roars, throwing up the white spray, which was driven in showers inland. Harry was soon pretty well drenched, but he had been too much accustomed to a wet jacket to think of it. Suddenly the clouds parted, and the moon burst forth, shedding a pale light over the wild, dancing waters. Just on the spot where her beams fell he distinguished a vessel running in towards the shore. That short glance showed him that she was a lugger. She seemed to be carrying a press of sail, considering the heavy gale blowing. Again the clouds parted, and at some distance astern of her, his keen seaman’s eye caught sight of a larger vessel. It was from her the guns were fired, for at that instant a flash was soon followed by the dull report of a gun, sounding even above the roar of the ocean. The position of both vessels was perilous in the extreme. In a few minutes the lugger must inevitably run on shore; but being probably a light craft, by being driven high upon the beach her crew might be saved; but if the larger vessel struck, it would be at a considerable distance farther out, and the seas would with terrific force instantly break over her and wash all the people off her decks. He longed to have the means of making a signal to the vessels of their danger. That seemed impossible. At no great distance were several cottages inhabited by fishermen and other seafaring people.“I will go and collect them,” Harry said to himself, “and get them to bring ropes and spars. We may save the lives of some of these poor fellows. Without help they must nearly all be washed off again, even should they be thrown on the beach.”Harry was not mistaken as to his position, and after some time, though not without difficulty, he found his way up the cliff and saw a light burning in one of the cottages which he was endeavouring to reach. He shouted out to the inmates, and at length a door opened and a light streamed forth. By its means he got to the front of the cottage, and told the men what was likely to occur. In a short time they were all on foot and hurrying down with him to the beach, laden with the poles and ropes he advised them to bring. At that moment a light burst forth from the top of a neighbouring cliff, and it was repeated by another from a beacon a little way inland. The guns then had been heard by the coastguards. By the time Harry had returned to the beach, a number of persons were collecting from all sides. Numerous other beacons in a short time blazed forth. The crowd were uttering various cries and exclamations.“It is a French fleet,” cried one; “the French are coming.”“To arms! to arms!” shouted others.“What is to be done?” asked some of the more timid. Several hurried back, declaring it was time to get out of harm’s way. Harry was glad at last to hear Mr Kyffin’s voice. He made his way up to him. “I was afraid you would be anxious about me,” he said; “but I felt that I ought not to come home to let you know till I had collected the people, in case there should be a shipwreck, to help the sufferers.”“She will be lost to a certainty,” cried the seamen in the crowd.Just then the dark sail of the lugger was seen, now lifted up, as she rose on the top of the sea, now sinking down into the trough. On she came. Those on board must have been well aware of the fate awaiting them. Still they made no attempt to haul off.Harry, calling to the people assembled, formed a party of men with ropes and spars who, secured one to the other, were to rush into the sea, and endeavour to drag out those who were washed overboard. Others were to stand by, ready to carry them up the beach out of the reach of the waves. The arrangements were made not a moment too soon. With a loud crash the lugger was seen rushing up the beach. In another instant, the following sea, with a loud roar, washed completely over her, and she was driven broadside on to the shore.

For upwards of a week Roger Kyffin had been absent from Idol Lane, during which time he had never left his house at Hampstead. The doctor, however, paid frequent visits, sometimes thrice a day; once he remained during the greater part of the night. The Misses Coppinger also frequently drove over, and on one occasion Mr Coppinger himself rode all the way to Hampstead to inquire for Mr Kyffin’s sick friend, for Mr Kyffin himself was in perfect health; indeed, he had never had an hour’s illness since he was a boy. No mother could have attended a child with more care and solicitude than did Roger Kyffin his guest. That guest was Harry Tryon. The day after his release from the prison ship he was seized with illness—his tongue was parched, his limbs ached, he was unable to raise his head from his pillow. The doctor thought that he was suffering, it might be, from the jail fever. Harry’s nerves had also been severely tried. What with the fatigue and anxiety he had gone through, the feeling of shame and remorse for his folly had at length completely overcome him. For several days he appeared to be hovering between life and death.

“Oh! Mr Kyffin, I am unworthy of you, I feel that I have disgraced you, and Mabel, too; when she knows about me, she, too, will see that I am unworthy of her love. How can she ever have confidence in a man who has shown himself so weak, who has committed so many follies, and who has been so easily led astray by designing knaves? How could I for a moment have trusted such a person as that unhappy man Sleech? Why did I not at once perceive the aims of Parker, who, however, was a thousand times superior to the other fellow?”

“My dear boy,” said Mr Kyffin, ”‘let bygones be bygones.’ You have had a good deal of experience in life, and have paid dearly for it, and now I pray God that you may be restored to health and be wiser for the future.”

“I see no hope for life in me,” answered Harry, “Mabel can never be mine.”

This was said as the fever was coming upon him before he broke down altogether. Mr Kyffin saw that reasoning or expostulation under the circumstances would avail nothing. He did his best therefore merely to soothe the poor lad. From his heart he pitied him, and loved him more than ever. Mabel had returned to Lynderton with her father. She was not told of Harry’s desperate illness. Indeed, she could not be permitted to see him for fear of catching the fever. She had fully expected that he would write, and perhaps she suffered more from being left in doubt than if she had been told the truth. At length, a fine constitution, under the doctor’s care, by God’s mercy brought him through. As soon as he was sufficiently recovered to be moved, Mr Kyffin was anxious to give him change of air. The cottage where he was born was vacant, and Mr Kyffin begged his old friend Doctor Jessop to fit it up for him. “His native air, and the doctor who knows him so well, will afford him the best chance of perfect recovery,” the kind man thought to himself, so he and Harry set forth towards Lynderton. Once more Harry took up his abode at the cottage where he first saw the light. He sat in the room with his old friend where his mother had died. A faint recollection of her came across him. He could even fancy he saw her slight figure as she sat in the porch watching his gambols on the lawn, or as she stood at the gate while he and the nursemaid set forth on their daily walk. The fresh autumn air soon restored vigour to his limbs and sent new life through his veins. Doctor Jessop prescribed frequent walks on the open downs above the cliffs.

“All fear of infection will by that time be blown away,” he observed. “For my part, I believe there has been no real danger since you left London. However, we cannot be too cautious in such matters.”

“And may I then see Mabel—Miss Everard?” he asked.

The doctor smiled.

“That may be as her father wishes,” he answered. “Certainly you will run no risk of giving her the fever, if that is what you mean. Perhaps I may be able to drive you there some day, not just yet though, and you are certainly not strong enough to walk so far.”

The weather had changed lately, and become very boisterous, but the stronger it blew the more Harry enjoyed his walks on the cliffs.—Generally Mr Kyffin accompanied him. One evening, however, it having rained all the afternoon, he went out later than usual. The air was fresh and pure, and he was tempted to continue his walk much farther than he generally went. At length, growing somewhat weary, he sat himself down in a hollow of the downs. The sun had hitherto been concealed, but at length it shone forth below a mass of clouds which hung overhead, and appeared floating as it were above the horizon, a vast ball of liquid fire. Gradually it sank over Portland Head, leaving the western sky glowing with a ruddy hue. Harry sat on, lost in thought. Now a fresh bank of clouds rose out of the horizon, and joining those that hung overhead, completely obscured the sky. Twilight came on more rapidly than usual, it seemed, as the wind increased, and the clouds rushed by in thick masses overhead. At last Harry became conscious that time had sped by, and the waning light warned him of the rapid approach of night. He knew the way well enough. At the same time there were several difficult places which he would have preferred passing in daylight. He hurried homeward along the cliff, but the darkness increased, and at length, reaching a path which led down to the beach, and recollecting that the tide was out, he descended by it, intending to continue his walk that way homeward. It was soon so dark that he could with difficulty see his way along the shore. Still, he found it somewhat tedious work walking along the beach, and upwards of an hour passed away after it became dark before, according to his calculation, he had reached that part of the beach which lay below the cottage. Just as he was about to turn away inland the sound of a gun came in from the sea. Another and another report followed. He stood for a few minutes wondering from what vessel the guns were fired. Presently his eye caught sight of the flashes. Several others followed. The vessel firing was drawing nearer and nearer. He could not bring himself to leave the shore, hoping that Mr Kyffin would not be alarmed by his absence. The wind whistled loudly. The seas came rolling in heavily on the beach, bursting with loud roars, throwing up the white spray, which was driven in showers inland. Harry was soon pretty well drenched, but he had been too much accustomed to a wet jacket to think of it. Suddenly the clouds parted, and the moon burst forth, shedding a pale light over the wild, dancing waters. Just on the spot where her beams fell he distinguished a vessel running in towards the shore. That short glance showed him that she was a lugger. She seemed to be carrying a press of sail, considering the heavy gale blowing. Again the clouds parted, and at some distance astern of her, his keen seaman’s eye caught sight of a larger vessel. It was from her the guns were fired, for at that instant a flash was soon followed by the dull report of a gun, sounding even above the roar of the ocean. The position of both vessels was perilous in the extreme. In a few minutes the lugger must inevitably run on shore; but being probably a light craft, by being driven high upon the beach her crew might be saved; but if the larger vessel struck, it would be at a considerable distance farther out, and the seas would with terrific force instantly break over her and wash all the people off her decks. He longed to have the means of making a signal to the vessels of their danger. That seemed impossible. At no great distance were several cottages inhabited by fishermen and other seafaring people.

“I will go and collect them,” Harry said to himself, “and get them to bring ropes and spars. We may save the lives of some of these poor fellows. Without help they must nearly all be washed off again, even should they be thrown on the beach.”

Harry was not mistaken as to his position, and after some time, though not without difficulty, he found his way up the cliff and saw a light burning in one of the cottages which he was endeavouring to reach. He shouted out to the inmates, and at length a door opened and a light streamed forth. By its means he got to the front of the cottage, and told the men what was likely to occur. In a short time they were all on foot and hurrying down with him to the beach, laden with the poles and ropes he advised them to bring. At that moment a light burst forth from the top of a neighbouring cliff, and it was repeated by another from a beacon a little way inland. The guns then had been heard by the coastguards. By the time Harry had returned to the beach, a number of persons were collecting from all sides. Numerous other beacons in a short time blazed forth. The crowd were uttering various cries and exclamations.

“It is a French fleet,” cried one; “the French are coming.”

“To arms! to arms!” shouted others.

“What is to be done?” asked some of the more timid. Several hurried back, declaring it was time to get out of harm’s way. Harry was glad at last to hear Mr Kyffin’s voice. He made his way up to him. “I was afraid you would be anxious about me,” he said; “but I felt that I ought not to come home to let you know till I had collected the people, in case there should be a shipwreck, to help the sufferers.”

“She will be lost to a certainty,” cried the seamen in the crowd.

Just then the dark sail of the lugger was seen, now lifted up, as she rose on the top of the sea, now sinking down into the trough. On she came. Those on board must have been well aware of the fate awaiting them. Still they made no attempt to haul off.

Harry, calling to the people assembled, formed a party of men with ropes and spars who, secured one to the other, were to rush into the sea, and endeavour to drag out those who were washed overboard. Others were to stand by, ready to carry them up the beach out of the reach of the waves. The arrangements were made not a moment too soon. With a loud crash the lugger was seen rushing up the beach. In another instant, the following sea, with a loud roar, washed completely over her, and she was driven broadside on to the shore.

Chapter Twenty Nine.Happy News.Several persons were carried off the decks of the wreck, and had it not been for the hardihood of those who rushed into the water, would inevitably have been swept away. Some of the crew, as the sea receded, leaped overboard and endeavoured to gain the shore. They also were helped in the same manner. Several poor fellows, however, were unable to reach the friendly hands held out to them, and were carried out by the waves. One of the number was, in another minute, dimly seen to be struggling forward on the curling summit of a foaming sea. Harry, who had ever been a bold swimmer, casting a rope about himself, now dashed in towards the almost exhausted man. Bravely he swam forward. He clasped him in his arms, and then shouting to his companions, was hauled up the beach in safety. A few more seas, came rushing in, and scarce a plank or timber of the lugger hung together. The greater number of the persons on board had been saved. They seemed, however, to be no strangers to most of the people on the beach. For some minutes Harry had been so busily engaged in rescuing others that he had not had time to speak to the person he had drawn out of the water. Great was his surprise, on returning to the drier part of the beach, when the light of a lantern fell on a man’s countenance he recognised—the features of his old acquaintance, Captain Falwasser. Several other persons were seated near him: one was a female, and the other an old man.“What, my friend Harry Tryon!” exclaimed the captain, grasping him. “My life, I know, is not the first you have saved. Harry, I have news for you,” he said, as if recollecting himself. “You shall have it by-and-bye. But these poor people require to be housed. They are shivering with the cold, and I must confess that I should like to find myself before a warm fire.”“Our cottage is at the service of as many as can get into it,” said Mr Kyffin, coming up to the captain. “Our friends here will, I have no doubt, take care of the rest.”The lugger had come across empty, greatly to the disappointment of most of the bystanders.“As fine a craft as ever floated has come to her end this night,” observed one of them. “Well, lads, there is nothing more to be done, so we will back to our homes and get some of these poor fellows put into warm beds.”The captain and two old French people, with two or three more persons, accompanied Mr Kyffin and Harry to the cottage. As they reached the top of the cliffs, they saw, far and near, the beacon fires bursting forth, and heard the sound of guns firing in the distance.“Why the people must suppose that the French are coming,” observed Mr Kyffin. “Depend upon it that is the idea. We shall have the whole army of volunteers down upon us before long, and when they find that you, captain, and your two old friends are the only invaders, they may be apt to feel rather irate; our safest plan will be to get housed comfortably before they come. It will do the young soldiers no harm to give them some useful exercise. I only hope, should the enemy ever come, that the guardians of our native land may be as wide awake as they appear to be to-night.”The cottage was shortly reached. Susan, Harry’s old nurse, now grown into a comely matron, acted as housekeeper; a blazing fire in the kitchen soon restored warmth to their limbs, while all the garments which the house could furnish were brought forth to supply them with dry clothes. A steaming hot supper was after this placed on the table, round which Mr Kyffin’s guests thankfully assembled.“Well, Harry, you wish to know the news I have brought, I doubt not,” said the captain, when at length he was sufficiently recovered to find the use of his tongue. “Had you not come down to-night to assist in saving me and these two country people of mine, in all human probability your friend Captain Everard would not have recovered possession of Stanmore. I am thankful to say, after much risk and anxiety, I succeeded in getting a copy of the marriage certificate which was of such importance, and to make security doubly sure, I brought over these two old people who were witnesses to his father’s marriage.”“How can he ever repay you sufficiently?” said Harry; “I must set out immediately to let him know the result of your mission.”“No, no, my dear boy, you have gone through sufficient fatigue to-night,” said Mr Kyffin. “You must do no such thing. The captain will not be the worse for spending another night without knowing that he can regain his property, and to-morrow morning we will go in due form, when, perhaps, as the gale last night must have blown away all your fever, you may be admitted into the presence of Mistress Mabel.”Harry’s countenance lighted up with pleasure at this suggestion of his guardian. “Do you think she will see me?” he exclaimed. “She will not deem me unworthy to appear in her presence?”“I don’t know what the young lady will think of your past doings, Master Harry,” observed Captain Falwasser, “but I rather think that, as you will take her a pretty fair certificate of your good conduct, you may have reason to hope that she will receive you condescendingly. I tell you, in my opinion, had it not been for you, Stanmore would have remained in the possession of the Sleech family as long as any of that sweet-sounding name exists. But see, my old friends, who do not understand the words that have been said, are nodding. Your kind housekeeper will, I dare say, see them put to roost.”Before day had dawned, the sound of drums and fifes was heard, and looking out of the window, Harry saw approaching from various directions, and forming on the downs, numerous companies of volunteers. Several officers on horseback rode along the cliff at a rapid rate, stopping every now and then, sweeping with their spy-glasses the distant horizon. Not a sail, however, was to be seen. They consulted together, and were evidently disconcerted at finding no enemy to resist. He was about to go out and meet them, but remembering his guardian’s remarks on the previous evening, he thought that they might possibly cause some annoyance to the French captain.“They may as well find out all about the lugger by themselves,” he thought.After a time several of the coastguard appeared, when the military having fired their muskets towards the south in defiance of their expected invaders, once more wheeled about, and marched away to their respective homes.“I like to see that sort of thing,” observed Mr Kyffin. “Englishmen will ever be found ready to defend their native shores.”Mr Kyffin had sent in for a carriage at an early hour to Lynderton, and soon after breakfast he, with Harry and their three visitors, set forth for that town. They stopped before the bow-windowed house where Captain Everard was residing with his aunt and daughter. Madam Everard was on the steps preparing to go out, and just behind her stood Mabel. As Harry descended from the carriage, why did Mabel start back and retreat a little within the passage? Madam Everard kindly took Harry’s hand, and shook that of Mr Kyffin. She cast an inquiring glance at the captain, whom at first she did not recognise.“May we come in?” asked Harry, looking up eagerly towards Mabel. For an instant he hesitated, then sprang up the steps past the old lady. Madam Everard detained Mr Kyffin and the captain for some minutes by making inquiries and receiving answers.“Come in, come in,” at length she answered. “Little did I expect to receive such joyful intelligence. Accept my gratitude, Captain Rochard, on my own account, and doubly thankful I am that by your means my dear nephew and his daughter will recover their rights.”A minute afterwards Mary was seen tripping down the street to the news-room to summon the captain. He had gone there to read the account just received of Lord Duncan’s great victory at Camperdown.“Oh, sir!” exclaimed Mary, as she saw the captain, “it is happy news, sir, happy news, better news than that about the battle. The French captain has come back and brought two old country people with him, and Madam Everard says we shall all get back to Stanmore.”Mr Wallace was in the room at the time, and the captain, scarcely crediting the news, begged the lawyer to accompany him home.“The evidence is complete,” observed Mr Wallace, after he had looked over the document brought by Captain Rochard, and by the help of that gentleman had examined the old French people. “We can go with perfect confidence of victory into a court of law, should Mr Sleech venture to oppose the claims of Captain Everard.”“I trust that everything may be done in a peaceable way,” observed Madam Everard. “I cannot pretend to have any regard for that unhappy man, Mr Sleech, though his children are, it must be owned, my nephews and nieces. I trust, however, that he will yield without opposition.”Mr Wallace promised to manage matters in as gentle a way as possible, and that no time might be lost, he set out forthwith for Stanmore. Paul Gauntlett, who very soon heard what was taking place, begged to accompany him.“No, no,” said the lawyer. “You, my friend, are a man of war. We will call you in if it is necessary to proceed by ejectment, but at present I hope the enemy will capitulate without an assault.”The answer satisfied Paul.At that moment Dr Jessop looked in to pay a professional visit to Mabel.“I think she scarcely requires your services, doctor,” observed Madam Everard; “but if you, as a friend of the family, will accompany Mr Wallace, perhaps you may be able to aid him in his delicate and somewhat painful mission.”“Come, brother physic, come along then,” said Mr Wallace, as they stepped into the carriage which had brought the party from Sea View Cottage. “The sooner this matter is settled the better.”Mr Sleech was seated in his study in a flowery dressing-gown, the hairdresser from Lynderton having just curled and powdered his peruke, when a footman in the Stanmore livery, which he had lately assumed, announced the lawyer and doctor.“What can they want with me?” he exclaimed. “Really, a man of rank and position can scarcely call his time his own. Let them in, however.”At that moment the Misses Sleech and one of their brothers came in from the grounds.“Papa,” exclaimed the young Mr Sleech, “those fellows have not cut down another tree. They say they don’t mind putting the fences in order and digging out the ditches, but that not one of them will lay an axe to a root.”“Impertinent fellows!” exclaimed Mr Sleech. “I will see how they dare disobey me.”At that moment the visitors entered the room.“Your servant, gentlemen,” said the master of Stanmore, performing one of his newly-learned bows. “To what cause am I indebted for the honour of this visit? Doctor, you are always welcome, whether you come as a visitor or professionally,” he added, holding out his hand, at the same time turning a dark frown towards his brother lawyer, who took his seat in silence.“As you ask me, Mr Sleech,” said Dr Jessop, “I come now as a friend—as a friend of your family and that of the Everards. I wish that you could have heard the expressions uttered but lately by your excellent sister-in-law, Madam Everard. You must be aware that it was very painful to her to leave Stanmore. The law allowed you to take possession, it being supposed that no marriage had taken place between Captain Everard’s father and mother, notwithstanding the assertion of the former that he had married in France. Of course Captain Everard has taken every means to prove his legitimacy, and I must ask you now to be prepared to receive the information, that not only is he in possession of the certificate of the marriage, properly attested by the French authorities, but that actually two French persons of respectability who were present are at this moment in England, indeed at Lynderton.”Mr Sleech gasped for breath as the doctor proceeded, turning his rolling eyeballs first at him and then at the lawyer.“Is it true what he says? Is it true, Wallace? Tell me,” he exclaimed.“Perfectly true, Mr Sleech,” answered the lawyer. “You have no more right to be in this house than I have; at the same time, the owners desire that you should be treated with every kindness and consideration.”Mr Sleech rose from his seat, and appeared as if he were about to rush on his brother lawyer.“It is false! It is a vile conspiracy! They are impostors!” he exclaimed. “I will not yield: I will die first!”“My good sir,” exclaimed the doctor, placing himself between Mr Sleech, whose doubled fist was raised to strike Mr Wallace, “let me entreat you to becalm. This violence will do you no good, and is discreditable to you.”The unfortunate man stopped and gasped, and had not the doctor held him up, he would have sunk to the ground. He was placed in a chair. Restoratives were administered, and at length he recovered.“I yield,” at last he said; “I played for a high stake, and I have lost. They will have pity on me. That wretched boy of mine, his fate has well-nigh broken my heart.”In a few days Mr Sleech and his family returned to the old red brick building with the high roof in the High Street of Lynderton, which he had inhabited since he entered business.The bells rang merrily out when Captain Everard and his daughter, accompanied by Madam Everard and several friends, drove up the avenue once more to Stanmore. Harry Tryon, however, never became its master. The charms of Miss Coppinger had for some time before captured the heart of the gallant captain, and in a short time after this she became his bride, and, ultimately, the mother of a considerable number of fine sons and girls, of whom, notwithstanding, Mabel was not in the slightest degree jealous, as she by that time could boast of an equal number of her own. The fortune her godfather had given her, and a very handsome settlement made by Mr Kyffin, enabled her to accept Harry Tryon’s hand. At the same time, the Baron de Ruvigny consoled himself for his past disappointments by marrying Sybella Coppinger, and both he and Harry joined Mr Coppinger’s firm, and by the time a permanent peace was once more restored to Europe, had become among the first merchants of London. With regard to Captain Falwasser, or Rochard, as he also called himself, he was a true patriot, though a royalist, and had for some political cause been compelled to leave France before the outbreak of the revolution. He had been introduced to Mr Pitt, and had been employed by him in gaining information of proceedings in France. For this purpose he had engaged the famous smuggling lugger, from which he could land without observation on either coast. Disguised in a variety of ways, he had been able to traverse France. Had he been captured, he knew well that his life would have been sacrificed. For many years he persevered, and at length, escaping all dangers, settled down at Lynderton, where he was ever an honoured guest at Stanmore. Paul Gauntlett once more took up his former office at the park, which he held to a green old age; and Jacob Tuttle came home with the loss of an arm, and married his faithful Mary.

Several persons were carried off the decks of the wreck, and had it not been for the hardihood of those who rushed into the water, would inevitably have been swept away. Some of the crew, as the sea receded, leaped overboard and endeavoured to gain the shore. They also were helped in the same manner. Several poor fellows, however, were unable to reach the friendly hands held out to them, and were carried out by the waves. One of the number was, in another minute, dimly seen to be struggling forward on the curling summit of a foaming sea. Harry, who had ever been a bold swimmer, casting a rope about himself, now dashed in towards the almost exhausted man. Bravely he swam forward. He clasped him in his arms, and then shouting to his companions, was hauled up the beach in safety. A few more seas, came rushing in, and scarce a plank or timber of the lugger hung together. The greater number of the persons on board had been saved. They seemed, however, to be no strangers to most of the people on the beach. For some minutes Harry had been so busily engaged in rescuing others that he had not had time to speak to the person he had drawn out of the water. Great was his surprise, on returning to the drier part of the beach, when the light of a lantern fell on a man’s countenance he recognised—the features of his old acquaintance, Captain Falwasser. Several other persons were seated near him: one was a female, and the other an old man.

“What, my friend Harry Tryon!” exclaimed the captain, grasping him. “My life, I know, is not the first you have saved. Harry, I have news for you,” he said, as if recollecting himself. “You shall have it by-and-bye. But these poor people require to be housed. They are shivering with the cold, and I must confess that I should like to find myself before a warm fire.”

“Our cottage is at the service of as many as can get into it,” said Mr Kyffin, coming up to the captain. “Our friends here will, I have no doubt, take care of the rest.”

The lugger had come across empty, greatly to the disappointment of most of the bystanders.

“As fine a craft as ever floated has come to her end this night,” observed one of them. “Well, lads, there is nothing more to be done, so we will back to our homes and get some of these poor fellows put into warm beds.”

The captain and two old French people, with two or three more persons, accompanied Mr Kyffin and Harry to the cottage. As they reached the top of the cliffs, they saw, far and near, the beacon fires bursting forth, and heard the sound of guns firing in the distance.

“Why the people must suppose that the French are coming,” observed Mr Kyffin. “Depend upon it that is the idea. We shall have the whole army of volunteers down upon us before long, and when they find that you, captain, and your two old friends are the only invaders, they may be apt to feel rather irate; our safest plan will be to get housed comfortably before they come. It will do the young soldiers no harm to give them some useful exercise. I only hope, should the enemy ever come, that the guardians of our native land may be as wide awake as they appear to be to-night.”

The cottage was shortly reached. Susan, Harry’s old nurse, now grown into a comely matron, acted as housekeeper; a blazing fire in the kitchen soon restored warmth to their limbs, while all the garments which the house could furnish were brought forth to supply them with dry clothes. A steaming hot supper was after this placed on the table, round which Mr Kyffin’s guests thankfully assembled.

“Well, Harry, you wish to know the news I have brought, I doubt not,” said the captain, when at length he was sufficiently recovered to find the use of his tongue. “Had you not come down to-night to assist in saving me and these two country people of mine, in all human probability your friend Captain Everard would not have recovered possession of Stanmore. I am thankful to say, after much risk and anxiety, I succeeded in getting a copy of the marriage certificate which was of such importance, and to make security doubly sure, I brought over these two old people who were witnesses to his father’s marriage.”

“How can he ever repay you sufficiently?” said Harry; “I must set out immediately to let him know the result of your mission.”

“No, no, my dear boy, you have gone through sufficient fatigue to-night,” said Mr Kyffin. “You must do no such thing. The captain will not be the worse for spending another night without knowing that he can regain his property, and to-morrow morning we will go in due form, when, perhaps, as the gale last night must have blown away all your fever, you may be admitted into the presence of Mistress Mabel.”

Harry’s countenance lighted up with pleasure at this suggestion of his guardian. “Do you think she will see me?” he exclaimed. “She will not deem me unworthy to appear in her presence?”

“I don’t know what the young lady will think of your past doings, Master Harry,” observed Captain Falwasser, “but I rather think that, as you will take her a pretty fair certificate of your good conduct, you may have reason to hope that she will receive you condescendingly. I tell you, in my opinion, had it not been for you, Stanmore would have remained in the possession of the Sleech family as long as any of that sweet-sounding name exists. But see, my old friends, who do not understand the words that have been said, are nodding. Your kind housekeeper will, I dare say, see them put to roost.”

Before day had dawned, the sound of drums and fifes was heard, and looking out of the window, Harry saw approaching from various directions, and forming on the downs, numerous companies of volunteers. Several officers on horseback rode along the cliff at a rapid rate, stopping every now and then, sweeping with their spy-glasses the distant horizon. Not a sail, however, was to be seen. They consulted together, and were evidently disconcerted at finding no enemy to resist. He was about to go out and meet them, but remembering his guardian’s remarks on the previous evening, he thought that they might possibly cause some annoyance to the French captain.

“They may as well find out all about the lugger by themselves,” he thought.

After a time several of the coastguard appeared, when the military having fired their muskets towards the south in defiance of their expected invaders, once more wheeled about, and marched away to their respective homes.

“I like to see that sort of thing,” observed Mr Kyffin. “Englishmen will ever be found ready to defend their native shores.”

Mr Kyffin had sent in for a carriage at an early hour to Lynderton, and soon after breakfast he, with Harry and their three visitors, set forth for that town. They stopped before the bow-windowed house where Captain Everard was residing with his aunt and daughter. Madam Everard was on the steps preparing to go out, and just behind her stood Mabel. As Harry descended from the carriage, why did Mabel start back and retreat a little within the passage? Madam Everard kindly took Harry’s hand, and shook that of Mr Kyffin. She cast an inquiring glance at the captain, whom at first she did not recognise.

“May we come in?” asked Harry, looking up eagerly towards Mabel. For an instant he hesitated, then sprang up the steps past the old lady. Madam Everard detained Mr Kyffin and the captain for some minutes by making inquiries and receiving answers.

“Come in, come in,” at length she answered. “Little did I expect to receive such joyful intelligence. Accept my gratitude, Captain Rochard, on my own account, and doubly thankful I am that by your means my dear nephew and his daughter will recover their rights.”

A minute afterwards Mary was seen tripping down the street to the news-room to summon the captain. He had gone there to read the account just received of Lord Duncan’s great victory at Camperdown.

“Oh, sir!” exclaimed Mary, as she saw the captain, “it is happy news, sir, happy news, better news than that about the battle. The French captain has come back and brought two old country people with him, and Madam Everard says we shall all get back to Stanmore.”

Mr Wallace was in the room at the time, and the captain, scarcely crediting the news, begged the lawyer to accompany him home.

“The evidence is complete,” observed Mr Wallace, after he had looked over the document brought by Captain Rochard, and by the help of that gentleman had examined the old French people. “We can go with perfect confidence of victory into a court of law, should Mr Sleech venture to oppose the claims of Captain Everard.”

“I trust that everything may be done in a peaceable way,” observed Madam Everard. “I cannot pretend to have any regard for that unhappy man, Mr Sleech, though his children are, it must be owned, my nephews and nieces. I trust, however, that he will yield without opposition.”

Mr Wallace promised to manage matters in as gentle a way as possible, and that no time might be lost, he set out forthwith for Stanmore. Paul Gauntlett, who very soon heard what was taking place, begged to accompany him.

“No, no,” said the lawyer. “You, my friend, are a man of war. We will call you in if it is necessary to proceed by ejectment, but at present I hope the enemy will capitulate without an assault.”

The answer satisfied Paul.

At that moment Dr Jessop looked in to pay a professional visit to Mabel.

“I think she scarcely requires your services, doctor,” observed Madam Everard; “but if you, as a friend of the family, will accompany Mr Wallace, perhaps you may be able to aid him in his delicate and somewhat painful mission.”

“Come, brother physic, come along then,” said Mr Wallace, as they stepped into the carriage which had brought the party from Sea View Cottage. “The sooner this matter is settled the better.”

Mr Sleech was seated in his study in a flowery dressing-gown, the hairdresser from Lynderton having just curled and powdered his peruke, when a footman in the Stanmore livery, which he had lately assumed, announced the lawyer and doctor.

“What can they want with me?” he exclaimed. “Really, a man of rank and position can scarcely call his time his own. Let them in, however.”

At that moment the Misses Sleech and one of their brothers came in from the grounds.

“Papa,” exclaimed the young Mr Sleech, “those fellows have not cut down another tree. They say they don’t mind putting the fences in order and digging out the ditches, but that not one of them will lay an axe to a root.”

“Impertinent fellows!” exclaimed Mr Sleech. “I will see how they dare disobey me.”

At that moment the visitors entered the room.

“Your servant, gentlemen,” said the master of Stanmore, performing one of his newly-learned bows. “To what cause am I indebted for the honour of this visit? Doctor, you are always welcome, whether you come as a visitor or professionally,” he added, holding out his hand, at the same time turning a dark frown towards his brother lawyer, who took his seat in silence.

“As you ask me, Mr Sleech,” said Dr Jessop, “I come now as a friend—as a friend of your family and that of the Everards. I wish that you could have heard the expressions uttered but lately by your excellent sister-in-law, Madam Everard. You must be aware that it was very painful to her to leave Stanmore. The law allowed you to take possession, it being supposed that no marriage had taken place between Captain Everard’s father and mother, notwithstanding the assertion of the former that he had married in France. Of course Captain Everard has taken every means to prove his legitimacy, and I must ask you now to be prepared to receive the information, that not only is he in possession of the certificate of the marriage, properly attested by the French authorities, but that actually two French persons of respectability who were present are at this moment in England, indeed at Lynderton.”

Mr Sleech gasped for breath as the doctor proceeded, turning his rolling eyeballs first at him and then at the lawyer.

“Is it true what he says? Is it true, Wallace? Tell me,” he exclaimed.

“Perfectly true, Mr Sleech,” answered the lawyer. “You have no more right to be in this house than I have; at the same time, the owners desire that you should be treated with every kindness and consideration.”

Mr Sleech rose from his seat, and appeared as if he were about to rush on his brother lawyer.

“It is false! It is a vile conspiracy! They are impostors!” he exclaimed. “I will not yield: I will die first!”

“My good sir,” exclaimed the doctor, placing himself between Mr Sleech, whose doubled fist was raised to strike Mr Wallace, “let me entreat you to becalm. This violence will do you no good, and is discreditable to you.”

The unfortunate man stopped and gasped, and had not the doctor held him up, he would have sunk to the ground. He was placed in a chair. Restoratives were administered, and at length he recovered.

“I yield,” at last he said; “I played for a high stake, and I have lost. They will have pity on me. That wretched boy of mine, his fate has well-nigh broken my heart.”

In a few days Mr Sleech and his family returned to the old red brick building with the high roof in the High Street of Lynderton, which he had inhabited since he entered business.

The bells rang merrily out when Captain Everard and his daughter, accompanied by Madam Everard and several friends, drove up the avenue once more to Stanmore. Harry Tryon, however, never became its master. The charms of Miss Coppinger had for some time before captured the heart of the gallant captain, and in a short time after this she became his bride, and, ultimately, the mother of a considerable number of fine sons and girls, of whom, notwithstanding, Mabel was not in the slightest degree jealous, as she by that time could boast of an equal number of her own. The fortune her godfather had given her, and a very handsome settlement made by Mr Kyffin, enabled her to accept Harry Tryon’s hand. At the same time, the Baron de Ruvigny consoled himself for his past disappointments by marrying Sybella Coppinger, and both he and Harry joined Mr Coppinger’s firm, and by the time a permanent peace was once more restored to Europe, had become among the first merchants of London. With regard to Captain Falwasser, or Rochard, as he also called himself, he was a true patriot, though a royalist, and had for some political cause been compelled to leave France before the outbreak of the revolution. He had been introduced to Mr Pitt, and had been employed by him in gaining information of proceedings in France. For this purpose he had engaged the famous smuggling lugger, from which he could land without observation on either coast. Disguised in a variety of ways, he had been able to traverse France. Had he been captured, he knew well that his life would have been sacrificed. For many years he persevered, and at length, escaping all dangers, settled down at Lynderton, where he was ever an honoured guest at Stanmore. Paul Gauntlett once more took up his former office at the park, which he held to a green old age; and Jacob Tuttle came home with the loss of an arm, and married his faithful Mary.

Back to IndexNext