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THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY

OF CALIFORNIA

LOS ANGELES






\



ELI'S CHILDEEN.

VOL. III.



ELI'S CHILDEEN



Ik Cljroniclcs of an llnfjiippn |itmiln.



GEORGE MANVILLE FENN,

AUTHOR OF
"the vicar's PEOPLE;" "THE PARSON o" DUMFORD," ETC.



7.V THREE VOLUMES.
VOLUME III.



LONDON :
CHAPMAN & HALL, Limited, 11. HENEIETTA ST., W.C.

1882.

[All Rights resemil.1



"CtAT AND TAYLOR, PRINTEBS.






CONTENTS OF VOLUME 111.



^ook 11. — (Continued.)



CHAPTER V.

PAGE

WHAT PLAN NEXT ] . . . ... ... ... ]



CHAPTER VI.

UNSELFISH PROCEEDINGS ... ... ... 12

CHAPTER VII.

AN OFFER DECLINED ... ... 21

CHAPTER VIII.

A VISIT FROM BROTHER JOCK ... ... ... 30

CHAPTER IX.

A CRUEL CHARGE ... ... ... ... 4\






47429



VI CONTENTS.

CHAPTER X.

AT KILBY ...

CHAPTER XI.
lovers' words ... ...

CHAPTER XII.

LAMBENT LOVE



55



75



91



CHAPTER XIII.

AX EVENTFUL NIGHT ... ... ... 103

CHAPTER XIV.

(50NE ! WHERE 1 ... ... ... ... 122

CHAPTER XV.

THE BIRD AND THE SERPENT ... ... ... 130

CHAPTER XVI.

A MEETING AND PARTING ... ... ... 14()



CONTEXTS. Vll

^Cciolt III.— ^hc IJiirristcr'c. 5ai).
CHAPTER !.

PAGIi

IN CHAMHKKS ... ... ... ... 157

CHAPTEli 11.

l.\ TROUBLE ... ... ... ... 173

CHAPTKI! III.

LUKE ROSS HEARS NEWS ... ... ... 18G

CHAPTER IV.

AX IMPORTANT BRIEF ... ... ... 19G

CHAPTKI! V.

A HARD DUTY ... ... ... l' 1 7

CHAPTEI! \1.

THE CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION ... ... 227

CHAPTEI! VII.

AFTER THE SENTENCE ... ... ... 23*,)

CHAPTER VUl.

A FORLORN HOPE ... ... ... ... 248



Vlll CONTENTS.

CHAPTER IX.

BACK HOME ... ... ... ... 260

CHAPTER X.

DOWN AT LAWFORU ... ... ... ... 269

CHAPTER XI.

LUKE VISITS AN OLD FRIEND ... ... 278

CHAPTER XII.

A LONG SLEEP ... ... ... ... 290

CHAPTER XIII.

SOUNDS IN THE FOG ... ... •■. 296

Chapter xiv.

THE convict's ESCAPE ... ... ... 311

chapter XV.

WIDOWED INDEED '. . . ... ... ... 322

chapter XVI.

AFTER POUR YEARS ... ... ... ... 33]



ELI'S CHILDEEN



BOOK 11.— {CoNTiNUi:i>.)

CHAPTEK V.
WHAT PLAN NEXT?

James Magnus had just struggled to his
knees, feeling half mad with rage at his im-
potence, for it was only now that he fully
realiaed how terribly he had been reduced by
his illness. Here before him was the man
whom he had to thank for his sufferings, and
against whom for other reasons as well he
nourished a bitter hatred ; and yet, instead of
being able to seize him by the throat and foice
the scoundrel to his knees, he was as helpless
as a child.

VOL. ni. B



ELl's CHILDREN.



" Dog ! villain ! " lie panted, as he staggered
up, and made at the fellow ; but Jock Morri-
son gave him a contemptuous look for answer,
and turned to him, but seemed to alter his
mind, and as if alarmed at what he had done,
started off at a brisk trot ; while after vainly
looking round for help, Magnus tottered
towards the edge of the cliff, his eyes starting
and the great drops of perspiration gathering
upon his face.

For a few moments he dared not approach
the extreme verge, for everything seemed to
be swimming before his eyes, but at last,
horror-stricken, and trembling in every limb,
he went down on hands and knees, crept to
the spot where Artingale had gone over, and
peered down, expecting to see the mangled
remains of his poor friend lying upon the
stones beneath.

" Ahoy ! " came from below, in the well-
known voice of Artingale ; and then, as
Magnus saw his friend some twenty feet
below, trying to clamber back, he uttered a low
sigh, and sank back fainting upon the turf.

For in spite of Jock Morrison's murderous



WHAT PLAN NEXT ? 3

intent, fate had been kind to Harry Artingale,
who had been hurled over the edge in one of
the few places where instead of going down
perpendicularly, the friable cliff was broken up
into ledges and slopes, upon one of which the
young man had fallen and clung for his life
to the rugged pieces of stone, slipping in a
little avalanche of fragments some twenty or
thirty feet farther than his first fall of about
ten. Here he managed to check himself, while
one of the largest fragments of stone that he had
started in his course went on, and as he clung
there he saw it leap, as it were, from beside
him, and a few seconds after there came up a
dull crash from where the stone had struck
and splintered, two hundred feet below.

" I shall lose my nerve," he thought, " if T
stop here ; " and rousing himself into action,
he beojan to climb back, and was makinc^ his
way up the steep slope without much difficulty,
when he saw his friend's ghastly face for a
moment, peering over the edge, and then it
disappeared.

" Poor old fellow, it has made him giddy,"
muttered Artingale, as he drew himself up

H 2



ELl's CHILDREN.



hiofher and liig;lier, clinging; close to the face of
the slope and placing his feet cautiously till
he found himself with his hands resting upon
a ledge only a few feet below the top of the
cliff.

If he could only get upon this ledge the rest
would be easy, but unless he could draw him-
self up by the strength of his muscles, he felt
that he must wait for help, and the task was
one of no little difficulty, for there was no
hi-rn hold for his hands.

He knew that if he waited for help he must
lose his nerve by thinking of his perilous
position, while if he tried to draw himself up
and did not succeed in reachincr the ledsre he
felt that he must fall.

He dared not pause to think of the con-
sequences of that fall, for though he had
escaped so far, it was not likely that he would
be so fortunate again.

He was standing now with his feet on a
piece of crumbling sandstone, which was
likely enough to give way if he tried to make
a spring upwards.

Still, there was nothing else to be done, and



WHAT PLAN NEXT ? 5

drawing in a deep breath, he remained yjer-
fectly motionless before making the supreme
effort.

His hands were only a few inches above his
head, and he besran searchino; about with them
now for a crevice into which he could thrust
his fingers, but the blind search was vain, and
feeling that this was hopeless, he let his eyes
fall to scan the surface of the rock below his
chest for some fresh foothold. ; but there w^as
none, unless he cut a niche in the soft sand-
stone, and he had no knife. If he climbed to
the right he would be in no better position ;
if to the left, he would be in a worse ; so
once more drawing a long breath, he began
cautiously to draw himself up higher and
higher by sheer force of nuis^cle, till his eyes
were level with the edge of the shelf; then
an inch or two higher, and then he felt
that his hands were giving way^ — that he was
falling — that all was over, and that he must
be dashed to pieces, when, in his agony, he
saw an opening, a mere crack across the shelf,
but it was sufficient for him to force in the
fingers of one hand with a desperate effort,



ELl's CHILDREN.



and then, how he knew not, he placed the
other beside it.

He could cling here and force feet and
knees against the face of the rock, and in the
struo;o;le of the next few moments he raised
himself higher, scrambled on to the ledge, rose
panting and with every nerve in his body
quivering, seized hold of a stone above him,
thrust his feet into a niche or two, gained the
top of the cliff, and, unable to keep up the
tension longer, he loosed the strain upon his
nerves and sank down beside his friend,
trembling in every limb.

This, however, did not last many moments,
for, shaking off the feeling of his own horror,
Artingale rose, drew down and buttoned his
wristbands, looking pityingly the while at his
friend, and then caught up his coat and threw
it on.

The next moment he was kneeling beside
Magnus, who soon after opened his eyes.

"Ah, Harry," he said, feebly,"you didn't know
what a miserable reed you had for a friend."

" Nonsense, man ! How are you ? Did
the blackguard hurt you ? "



WHAT PLAN NEXT ? 7

"No, scarcely at all. Tm weak as a rat.
But you ! "

" Oh, I'm all right. Only a little skin off
my elbows and varnish off my toes. Which
way did the brute go ? "

" Over the hill yonder," said Magnus.

" Where he may go," said Artiugale, " for
hang me if I go after him to-day. Why,
confound him, he's as strong as a bull. I
couldn't have thousfht a man could be so
powerful. But let's get back, old fellow.
Can you walk ? "

" Oh yes, I'm better now," said Magnus
feebly ; " but I shall never forgive myself for
failing you at such a pinch."

" Never mind the failing. Jemmy : but
pinch it was ; the blackguard nearly broke
my ribs. One moment : let me look down."

He walked to the edo;e and looked over the
cliff, realizing more plainly now the terrible
risk he had run, for his escape had been
narrow indeed, and in spite of his attempt to
preserve his composure, he could not help
feeling a peculiar moisture gathering in the
palms of his hands. But he laughed it off as



8 ELl's CHILDREN.

he took Magnus's arm, and drew it through
his own, saying,

" It's a great blessing, my dear boy, that I
took off this coat It would have been
completely spoiled."

" You had an awfully narrow escape."

" Yes ; and it is almost a pity the brute did
not kill me," said Artingale, coolly.

" Harry I "

" Well, if he had, the police would have
hunted the scoundrel down, then he would
have been hung, and little Julie could have
rested in peace."

" And Cynthia ? " said Magnus, with a sad
smile.

" Ah, yes ! poor little darling, she would
.have broken her heart. But I say, old fellow,
it's a pity the scoundrel got away. What are
we to do ? "

" He must be taken," exclaimed Magnus,
" at any cost. It was a murderous attempt
on your life."

" Humpli ! yes, but he might swear that I
tried to throw him over first. It was a fight,
old fellow, and I got the worst of it."



WHAT PLAN NEXT ? 9

" But lie must 1)0 taken."

"No," said Artingale, "I think not, okl
fellow ; his is a peculiar case, and we can't be
going into witness-boxes and answering all
sorts of questions. After to day's adventure
down below on the beach, I don't see that we
can move. No, Magnus, there are things that
must be hushed up, and this is one of them.
But we must do something, I declare I'll
mount a revolver, and have a shot at the
brute if he annoys them again, legal or
illegal."

" Impossible," said Magnus, bitterly.

" By Jove ; if he'd only go down home again
and get up to some of his poaching tricks. I
tell you what, Magnus, old man," he said,
setting his teeth, " I hope fate will never place
me with my men down at Gatley, going to
meet a poaching party led by Jock Morrison.
If she does — well "

" Well what ? "

" I hope I sha'n't have a gun in my hand."

" You must persuade Mr. Mallow to leave
here."

" What ! just as he has come down for



10 ELIS CHILDREN.

Julia's health. No, my dear fellow, you might
just as well try to move a rock. But I say,
our first attempt at playing detectives don't
seem to have been much of a success."

" No," said Magnus, dreamily. " Let's get
back."

" What are you thinking about, old man,"
said Artingale, after a pause.

" I was thinkino- whether the fellow could
be bribed to go awav."

" Oh, yes, easily," said Artingale, " and
he'd go and come back next week, and levy
blackmail wherever the family went, while the
very fiict of his having been paid off would
give the afiair an ugly look if ever we had occa-
sion to drag the scoundrel before the judge."

"Then what is to be done ?" said Magnus,
angrily, " the police must be consulted."

" No : won't do," said Artingale, decisively.
" Wait a bit. Jemmy, and I'll hit upon some
plan. Unfortunately, we live in these de-
graded times when that fine old institution
the press-gang is no more."

" This is no time for levity, Harry," said
Magnus, bitterly.



WHAT PLAN NEXT ? 11

" Levity ! My dear boy, my feelings
towards that fellow are full of aiiythiug but
levity. He nearly killed me, and that is no
joke ; and — oh ! horror of horror ! I did not
expect this — here's Perry- Morton."

He was quite right, for the idol of the early
masters' clique was advancing to meet them
after failing to see poor Julia, who with
throbbing pulses and cheeks now pale, now
burnino; with fever, was sobbinii; in her sister's
arms.



12 ELl's CHILDREN.



CHAPTER VI.



UNSELFISH PROCEEDINGS.



" Frightened away ? Not a doubt about
it," said Arting^ale. " I feel as if I had
been a martyr, and offered myself up as a
sacrifice."

" Martyr — sacrifice ! " cried Cynthia, look-
ing at the speaker keenly, and with her bright
little face flushing. *' Now, Harry, I'll never
forgive you. I'm sure you've been keeping
something back. Tliere, see how guilty you
look ! Oh, shame ! shame ! "

Artingale protested that he had been silent
only from the best motives, was accused of
deceit and want of confidence, and ended by
making a full confession of the whole incident,
after which he had to take Cynthia and show



UNSELFISH PROCEEDINGS. 13

licr the exact spot before his shuddering litth- ,
compauion condescended to forgive.

" And when was this, sir ? "

" This day month," said Artingale, humbly,
" and we have not seen him since. Magnus
and I have watched, and searched, and hunted,
and done everything possible ; but, as I say,
1 think I have been the sacrifice. He believes
lie killed me, and is afraid to show."

" Perhaps he has committed suicide out of
remorse," said Cynthia.

" Just the sort of fellow who would," re-
plied Artingale, with a dry look.

" Now you are laughing at me," cried
Cynthia, pettishly. " I declare, Harry, T
l)elieve you are tired of me, and want to
quarrel. I've been too easy with you, sir, and
ought to have kept you at a distance."

More protesting and pardoning took place
here, all very nice in their way, but of no
interest to any save the parties concerned.

"You must cret Julie to come out more
now," said Artingale. "Tell her there is
nothing to mind."

" 1 can't make poor Julie out at all," said



14 ELl's CHILDREN.

Cynthia thoughtfully. " She seems so strange
and quiet. That man must have frightened
her dreadfully."

" Did she tell you about it ? "

" Very little, and if I press her she shudders,
and seems ready to burst out sobbing. Tijen
[ have to comfort her by telling her that I
am sure she will never see him any more,
and when I say this she looks at me so
strangely."

" What does mamma say ? "

" Oh, only that Julie is foolish and hysteri-
cal. She doesn't understand her at all. Poor
mamma never did unrlerstand us girls, I'm
sure," said Cynthia, with a profound look of
wisdom upon her little face.

" And papa ? "

" Oh, poor dear papa thinks of nothing but
seeing us married and — Oh, Harry, I am
ashamed."

"What of?" he cried, catching her in his
arms and kissing her tenderly. " Why,
Cynthy, I never knew before what a fine old
fellow the pater is. He is up to par in my
estimation now."



UNSELFISH PROCEEDINGS. 15

"Is that meant for a joke, sir?" said
Cynthia mockingly.

" Joke ? — joke ? 1 don't know wliat you
mean."

" Never mind now ; but you need not be
so pleased about what papa says. I think
it's very cruel — wanting to get rid of us."

" I don't," exclaimed Artinj^ale, lauohinor.

" Then you want to see poor Julie married
to that dreadful Perry-Morton ? "

" No, I don't ; I want her to have dear old
James Magnus. I say, Cynthy. We won't
be selfish, eh ? We won't think about our-
selves, will we ? Let's try and make other
people happy."

" Yes, Harry, we will."

It was wonderful to see the sincerity with
which these two young people spoke, and
how eagerly they set to making plans for
other people's happiness — a process which
seemed to need a great deal of clinmnor to-
gether for mutual support, twining about of
arms, and looking long and deeply into each
other's eyes for counsel. Then Artingale's
hair was a little too much over his forehead



16 Eli's children.

for the thoughts of Cynthia to flow freely,
and it had to be smoothed back by a little
white hand with busy fingers. But that hair
was obstinate, and it was not until the little
pinky fingers had several times been moistened
between Cynthia's ruddy lips and drawn over
the objecting strands of hair that they could
be forced to retain the desired position.

After the performance of such a kindly
service Arting^ale would have been uno;rateful
if he had not thanked her in the most
aff"ectionate way his brain could suggest, a
proceeding of which, with all due modesty,
the young lady seemed highly to approve.

Then Harry's tie was not quite right, and
the new collar stud had to be admired, and
a great deal more of this very unselfish eaa
sitcree had to be imbibed before Julia again
came on the iapis^ her entrance being heralded
by a sister's sigh.

" Poor Julie ! " said Cynthia.

" Oh, yes ; poor Julia. Now, look here,
pet, I dare say it's very shocking, and if it
were known the Rector would be sure to
give me my conf/e^



UNSELFLSH rROCEEDINGS. 17

*'01i, I would never tliiiik of telling him.
Harry."

" That's right. Well, as 1 was saying,
if she marries Perry-Morton she will he
miserable."

" Horribly," assented Cynthia.

" And if she marries old Magnus she will
be very happy."

" But are you sure that Mr. Magnus really
loves her ? "

" He worships her. I'm sure of it."

" Then it would be wicked, wouldn't it,
Harry, to keep them apart ? "

" I should think it as bad as murder to keep
us apart."

" Should you, Harry "{ "

" Yes." And more unselfish proceedings.

" Then, as papa and mamma have made
a mistake, don't you think we ought to
help them ? "

" Yes," said Artingale, " but how ? Magnus
hangs back. He says he is sure that Julia
does not think of him in the slightest degree.
What do you say ? "

" I don't know w^hat to say," cried Cynthia

VOL. III. C



18 ELl's CHILDREN.

thoughtfully, ''only that I am sure she hates
Perry-Morton. She says she does."

" But does she show any liking for
Mamus ? "

" N — no, I'm afraid not. But does that
matter, dear ? "

" Well, I should think not," replied Artin-
gale thoughtfully. " Magnus loves her very
much, and I'm sure no girl could help loving
him in return. I almost feel jealous when he
talks to you."

" No, you don't, Harry," retorted Cynthia,
recommencing operations upon the obstinate
lock of hair.

" Then what is to be done ? " said Artingale,
at last, after another long display of unselfish-
ness,

" I'm sure I don't know, Harry. It almost
seems as if Julia was ready to let herself go
with the stream. She is so quiet and strange
and reserved. I don't know what to make
of her. She keeps fancying she sees that
man."

" But she don't see him."

" Oh no : it is impossible ; but she is so



UNSELFISH PROCEf:DINGS. 19

(•haii<i,ccl. 1 liiid her sometimes sitting; and
thinking, looking straight before her as if she
were in a dream. Brinsr Mr. Magnus here
more often."

" Here ? "

" Well, no ; to Lawford. I'll coax papa
into asking him. Oh, I say, what a capital
idea ! " cried Cynthia, clapping her hands. " 1
have it. Her portrait ! "

" Her portrait ! " exclaimed Artingale, start-
ing, as he recalled the scene in his friend's
studio.

" Yes ; the very thing. You take him
down to Gatley, and papa shall ask Mr.
JMagnus over to Lawford to paint Julia's
portrait, and then there will be such long
sittings, Harry ; and Mr. Magnus will have
to look at her so patiently, and move this
hand there and that hand here, and get her
into quite the correct pose. Oh, Harry, what
fun ! "

" Why, you cunning little witch," he ex-
claimed ; "if Magnus does not jump at the
idea, he deserves to lose her."

Then there came a little more unselfishness

C 2



20 ELI'S CHILDREN.

and a little disinterested proceeding, which
was interrupted by the entrance of Julia her-
self, looking very pale and sad. There was
a far-off, distant aspect about her eyes, as of
one who was thinking deeply of some great
trouble, but she smiled affectionately whep
Cynthia spoke, after which the conspirators
exchanged glances, and Artinojale went away.



AN OFKKR DECLl.NKD. 21



CHAPTER VII.



AN OFFER DECLINED.



They were to be busy times iit the Kectory
that winter, for the servants left in charge
heard that there was to be a great deal of
company.

The G-atley domestics too had to make
preparations, for Lord Artingale intended to
entertain that season. A room w-as set apart
for Mr. Magnus the great artist. Miss Mal-
low's brothers were expected to come over
from the Rectory to shoot, and Mr. Cyril
j\In11ow, it was anticipated, would be asked to
bring his young w^ife and stay there at tlie
fine old house— a fact, for Sage was a member
now of the Mallow family, and Harry Artin-
o:ale liked her as much as he disliked her
husband.



22 ELl's CHILDREN.

There was j^lenty of gossip rife in Lawford,
and on the strenoth of old Michael Ross
saying, when he was told that Mr. Magnus the
painter was coming down, that his son Luke
knew him, having met him at a London
club, the report ran through the place that
Luke Ross was getting to be quite a big
man, and had become a friend of Lord
Arting;ale.

"Not that that's much," said Fullerton, at
the King's Head, " for tlie young lord isn't
what his father was. Old Lord Artin2;ale
wouldn't have married one of Mallow's girls,
I know, nor yet made boon companions of
those two sons and Luke Ross."

" I don't think you need put them all
together," said Tomlinson, with a sly laugh ;
" Luke Ross wouldn't be very good friends
with the man who stole his lass. If he would
he's not the Luke Ross that he was when he
was down here."

In due time the blinds went up at Gatley
and at the Rectory, and the tradespeople who
had been ready to discuss the shortcomings
of the Rector were obsequious enough in



AN OFFER DECLINED. 23

soliciting his orders now the family had
returned.

They had made a long stay at Hastings, for
the Rector fancied it did Mrs. Mallow good.
She seemed to smile more, and to look
brighter, he told himself, and he would stand
and beam at her as he wheeled her couch to the
open window when it was fine, and watch her
gazing at the sea with the greatest of satis-
faction.

Frank had made journeys to and from
London, making at the latter place Cyril's
house at Kensington his head -quarters, and
frequently being his companion away from
home.

Julia was no better, in spite of the opinion
of the doctor, who said that she had decidedly
gained tone, and that the change now to her
native air would complete the cure ; so the
family returned to Lawford as the winter
drew near, and, as a matter of course. Lord
Artingale soon found his way back to Gatley.

There was some preparation too at Kilby,
for Portlock said that it was his turn to have
the young folks to stay.



24 ELIS CHILDEEN.

" They may go to the rectory as much as
they lik&, mother," — a title he invariably gave
Mrs. Portlock, on the hicm a non lucendo prin-
ciple, — "■ but I mean to have them stay here ;
not that I'm particularly fond of Master Cyril ;
but there, he's the little lassie's husband, and
it's all right."

'' But you asked John Berry and Rue to
come and brinij; the little ones," said Mrs.
Portlock.

'' Well, I know that, old lady. Isn't Kilby
bia' enouo'h to hold the lot ? Let's have the
place made a bit cheerful ; I like to hear a
good hearty shout of laughter now and then,,
and you've taken to do nothing else lately but
grumble softly and scold."

" It's a wicked story, Joseph, and you know
it," cried Mrs. Portlock, as the Churchwarden
turned away from her and winked at the cat ;
" and as for noise, I'm sure you make enough
in the house without wanting more."

" Never mind, let's have more ; and Cyril
Mallow can shoot down the rabbits, for they're
rather ^ettino; ahead."

As he spoke he had been filling his pipe.



AN OFFER DECLINED. 25

and lie now took out a letter, read it, and
slowly folded it up for a pipe-light, saying to
himself —

" He's no business to want me to lend him
a hundred pound after what 1 so lately did
for them as a start."

James Mao^nus had been invited to take
Julia's portrait, the Rector, artfully prompted
thereto by Cynthia, accompanying the com-
mission by a very warm invitation to stay at