 between the scenes three and four of No Name. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Philip Griffiths. No Name by Wilkie Collins. Between the scenes three and four. Progress of the story through the post. 1. Extract from the advertising columns of the Times. An unknown friend is requested to mention, by advertisement, an address at which a letter can reach him. The receipt of the information which he offers will be acknowledged by a reward of £5. 2. From Captain Ragh to Magdalene. Birmingham, July 2, 1847. My dear girl, the box containing the articles of costumes which you took away by mistake has come safely to hand. Consider it under my special protection until I hear from you again. I embrace this opportunity to assure you once more of my unalterable fidelity to your interests. Without attempting to intrude myself into your confidence, may I inquire whether Mr Noel Vanstone has consented to do you justice? I greatly fear he has declined, in which case I can lay my hand on my heart and solemnly declare that his meanness revolts me. Why do I feel a foreboding that you have appealed to him in vain? Why do I find myself viewing this fellow in the light of a noxious insect? We are total strangers to each other. I have no sort of knowledge of him, except the knowledge I picked up in making your inquiries. Has my intense sympathy with your interests made my perceptions prophetic? Or, to put it fancifully, is there really such a thing as a former state of existence and has Mr Noel Vanstone mortally insulted me, say, in some other planet? I write to my dear Magdalene as you see with my customary dash of humour, but I am serious in placing my services at your disposal. Don't let the question of terms cause you an instant's hesitation. I accept beforehand any terms you'd like to mention. If your present plans point that way, I am ready to squeeze Mr Noel Vanstone in your interests till the gold oozes out of him at every pour. Pardon the coarseness of this metaphor. My anxiety to be of service to you rushes into words, lays my meaning in the rough at your feet, and leaves your taste to polish it with the choicest ornaments of the English language. How is my unfortunate wife? I am afraid you find it quite impossible to keep up at heel or to mould her personal appearance into harmony with the eternal laws of symmetry and order. Does she attempt to be too familiar with you? I have always been accustomed to check her in this respect. She has never been permitted to call me anything but captain, and on the rare occasion since our union, when circumstances may have obliged her to address me by letter, her opening form of salutation has been rigidly restricted to dear sir. Accept these trifling domestic particulars as suggesting hints which may be useful to you in managing Mrs Rag, and believe me, in anxious expectation of hearing from you again. My dearest Magdalen, when you write next, and pray right soon, address your letter to me at Miss Garthes. I have left my situation, and some little time may elapse before I find another. Now it is all over, I may acknowledge to you, my darling, that I was not happy. I tried hard to win the affection of the two little girls I had to teach, but they seemed, I'm sure I can't tell why, to dislike me from the first. Their mother I have no reason to complain of, but their grandmother, who was really the ruling power in the house, made my life very hard to me. My inexperience in teaching was a constant subject of remark with her, and my difficulties with the children were always visited on me as if they had been entirely of my own making. I tell you this so that you may not suppose I regret having left my situation. Far from it, my love, I am glad to be out of the house. I have saved a little money, Magdalen, and I should so like to spend it in staying a few days with you. My heart aches for a sight of my sister. My ears are weary for the sound of her voice. A word from you telling me where we can meet is all I want. Think of it, pray think of it. Don't suppose I am discouraged by this first check. There are many kind people in the world, and some of them may employ me next time. The way to happiness is often very hard to find. Harder I almost think for women than for men. But if we only try patiently, and try long enough, we reach it at last, in heaven if not on earth. I think my way now is the way which leads to seeing you again. Don't forget that, my love, the next time you think of Nora. Four. From Miss Garth to Magdalen. Westmoreland House, July 1st. My dear Magdalen, you have no useless remonstrances to apprehend at the sight of my handwriting. My only object in this letter is to tell you something which I know your sister will not tell you of her own accord. She is entirely ignorant that I am writing to you. Keep her in ignorance if you wish to spare her unnecessary anxiety and me unnecessary distress. Nora's letter, no doubt, tells you that she has left her situation. I feel it my painful duty to add that she has left it on your account. The matter occurred in this manner. Messrs. Wyatt, Pendrell and Guilt are the solicitors of the gentlemen in whose family Nora was employed. The life which you have chosen for yourself was known as long ago as December last to all the partners. You were discovered performing in public at Darby by the person who had been employed to trace you at York. And that discovery was communicated by Mr. Wyatt, to Nora's employer a few days since, in reply to direct inquiries about you on that gentleman's part. His wife and his mother, who lives with him, had expressly desired that he would make those inquiries. Their doubts having been arised by Nora's evasive answers when they questioned her about her sister. You know Nora too well to blame her for this. Evasion was the only escape your present life had left her from telling a downright falsehood. That same day the two ladies of the family, the elder and the younger, sent for your sister and told her they had discovered that you were a public performer roaming from place to place in the country under an assumed name. They were just enough not to blame Nora for this. They were just enough to acknowledge that her conduct had been as irreproachable as I had guaranteed it should be when I got her the situation. But at the same time they made it a positive condition of her continuing in their employment that she should never permit you to visit her at their house or to meet her and walk out with her when she was in attendance on the children. Your sister, who has patiently borne all hardships that fell on herself, instantly resented the slur cast on you. She gave her employer's warning on the spot. High words followed and she left the house that evening. I have no wish to distress you by representing the loss of this situation in the light of a disaster. Nora was not so happy in it as I had hoped and believed she would be. It was impossible for me to know beforehand that the children were sullen and intractable or that the husband's mother was accustomed to make her domineering disposition felt by everyone in the house. I will readily admit that Nora is well out of this situation but the harm does not stop there. For all you and I know to the contrary the harm may go on. What has happened in this situation may happen in another. Your way of life, however pure your conduct may be and I will do you the justice to believe it pure is a suspicious way of life to all respectable people. I have lived long enough in this world to know that the sense of proprietary in nine English women out of ten makes no allowances and feels no pity. Nora's next employers may discover you and Nora may throw up a situation next time which we may never be able to find for her again. I leave you to consider this my child. Don't think I am hard on you. I am jealous for your sister's tranquility. If you will forget the past Magdalen and come back trust to your old governess to forget it too and to give you the home which your father and mother once gave her. Your friend my dear always. Harriet Garth. Five. From Francis Clare Jr. to Magdalen. Shanghai, China. April 23rd, 1847. My dear Magdalen, I have deferred answering your letter in consequence of the distracted state of my mind which made me unfit to write to you. I am still unfit but I feel I ought to delay no longer. My sense of honour fortifies me and I undergo the pain of writing this letter. My prospects in China are all at an end. The firm to which I was brutally consigned as if I was a bale of merchandise has worn out my patience by a series of petty insults and I have felt compelled from motives of self-respect to withdraw my services which were undervalued from the first. My returning to England under these circumstances is out of the question. I have been too cruelly used in my own country to go back to it even if I could. I propose embarking on board a private trading vessel in these seas in a mercantile capacity to make my way if I can for myself. How it will end or what will happen to me next is more than I can say. It matters little what becomes of me. I am a wanderer and an exile entirely through the fault of others. The unfeeling desire at home to get rid of me has accomplished its object. I am got rid of for good. There is only one more sacrifice left for me to make the sacrifice of my heart's dearest feelings. With no prospects before me with no chance of coming home what hope can I feel of performing my engagement to yourself? None. A more selfish man than I am might hold you to that engagement. A less considerate man than I am might keep you waiting for years and to no purpose after all. Cruely as they have been trampled on my feelings are too sensitive to allow me to do this. I write it with the tears in my eyes you shall not link your fate to an outcast. Accept these heartbroken lines as releasing you from your promise. Our engagement is at an end. The one consolation which supports me in bidding you farewell is that neither of us is to blame. You may have acted weakly under my father's influence but I am sure you acted for the best. Nobody knew what the fatal consequences of driving me out of England would be but myself and I was not listened to. I yielded to my father, I yielded to you and this is the end of it. I am suffering too acutely to write more may you never know what my withdrawal from our engagement has cost me. I beg you will not blame yourself it is not your fault that I have had all my energies misdirected by others. It is not your fault that I have never had a fair chance of getting on in life. Forget the deserted wretch who breathes his heartfelt prayers for you for your happiness and who will ever remain your friend and well-wisher. Francis Clare Jr. Six. From Francis Clare Sr. to Magdalene enclosing the preceding letter. I always told your poor father my son was a fool but I never knew he was a scoundrel until the mail came in from China. I have every reason to believe that he has left his employers under the most disgraceful circumstances. Forget him from this time forth as I do. When you and I last set eyes on each other you behaved well to me in this business. All I can now say in return I do say my girl I am sorry for you. FC. Seven. From Mrs. Ragh to her husband. Dear sir for mercy's sake come here and help us. She had a dreadful letter I don't know what yesterday but she read it in bed and when I went in with her breakfast and if the doctor had not been two doors off nobody else could have brought her to life again. And she sits and looks dreadful and won't speak a word her eyes frightened me so I shake from head to foot oh please do come I keep things as tidy as I can and I do like her so and she used to be so kind to me and the landlord says he's afraid she'll destroy herself. I wish I could write straight but I do shake so excuse faults and beg you on my knees come and help us the doctor good man will put some of his own writing into this for fear you can't make out mine and remain once more your dutiful wife Matilda Ragh added by the doctor sir I beg to inform you that I was yesterday called into a neighbour's invocal walk to attend a young lady who had been suddenly taken ill I recovered her with great difficulty from one of the most obstinate fainting fits I ever remember to have met with since that time she has had no relapse but there is apparently some heavy distress weighing on her mind which it has hitherto been found impossible to remove she sits as I am informed perfectly silent and perfectly unconscious of what goes on about her for hours together with a letter in her hand which she will allow nobody to take from her if this state of depression continues very distressing mental consequences may follow I only do my duty in suggesting that some relative or friend should interfere who has influence enough to rouse her your obedient servant Richard Jarvis MRCS 8 from Nora to Magdalen July 5th for God's sake write me one line to say if you are still at Birmingham and where I can find you there I have just heard from old Mr Clare oh Magdalen if you have no pity on yourself have some pity on me the thought of you alone among strangers the thought of you heartbroken under this dreadful blow never leaves me for an instant no words can tell how I feel for you my own love remember the better days at home before that cowardly villain stole his way into your heart remember the happy time at Coombe Raven when we were always together oh don't, don't treat me like a stranger we are alone in the world now let me come and comfort you let me be more than a sister to you if I can one line only one line to tell me where I can find you 9 from Magdalen to Nora July 7th my dearest Nora all that your love for me can wish your letter has done you and you alone have found your way to my heart I could think again I could feel again after reading what you have written to me let this assurance quiet your anxieties my mind lives and breathes once more it was dead until I got your letter the shock I have suffered has left a strange quietness in me I feel as if I had parted from my former self as if the hopes once so dear to me had all gone back to some past time from which I am now far removed I can look at the wreck of my life more calmly Nora than you could look at it both together again I can trust myself already to write to Frank my darling I think no woman ever knows how utterly she has given herself up to the man she loves until that man has ill treated her can you pity my weakness if I confess to having felt a pang at my heart when I read that part of your letter which calls Frank a coward and a villain nobody can despise me for this as I despise myself I am like a dog who crawls back and licks the master's hand that has beaten him but it is so I would confess it to nobody but you indeed indeed it is so he has deceived and deserted me he has written me a cruel farewell but don't call him a villain if he repented and came back to me to die rather than marry him now but it grates on me to see that word coward written against him in your hand if he is weak of purpose who tried his weakness beyond what it could bear do you think this would have happened if Michael Vanstone had not robbed us of our own and forced Frank away from me to China in a week from today the year of waiting would have come to an end and I should have been Frank's wife if my marriage portion had not been taken from me you will say after what has happened it is well that I have escaped my love there is something perverse in my heart which answers no better have been Frank's wretched wife than the free woman I am now I have not written to him he sends me no address at which I could write even if I would but I have not the wish I will wait before I send him my farewell if a day ever comes when I have the fortune which my father once promised I should bring to him do you know what I would do with it I would send it all to Frank as my revenge on him for his letter as the last farewell word on my side to the man who has deserted me let me live for that day let me live Nora in the hope of better times for you which is all the hope I have left when I think of your hard life I can almost feel the tears once more in my weary eyes I can almost think I have come back again to my former self you will not think me hard hearted and ungrateful if I say that we must wait a little yet before we meet I want to be more fit to see you than I am now I want to put Frank further away and to bring you nearer still are these good reasons I don't know don't ask me for reasons take the kiss I have put for you here where the little circle is drawn on the paper and let that bring us together for the present till I write again goodbye my love my heart is true to you Nora but I do not see you yet Magdalen ten Magdalen to Miss Garth my dear Miss Garth I have been long in answering your letter but you know what has happened and you will forgive me all that I have to say may be said in a few words you may depend on my never making the general sense of proprietary my enemy again I am getting knowledge enough of the world to make it my accomplice next time Nora will never leave another situation on my account the public performer is at an end it was harmless enough God knows I may live and so may you to mourn the day when I parted from it but I shall never return to it again it has left me as Frank has left me as all my better thoughts have left me except my thoughts of Nora enough of myself shall I tell you some news to brighten this dull letter Mr. Michael Vanstone is dead and Mr. Noel Vanstone has succeeded to the possession of my fortune and Nora's he is quite worthy of his inheritance in his father's place he would have ruined us as his father did I have no more to say that you will care to know don't be distressed about me I am trying to recover my spirits I am trying to forget the poor deluded girl who was foolish enough to be fond of Frank in the old days at Coombe Raven sometimes a pang comes which tells me the girl won't be forgotten but not often it was very kind of you when you wrote to such a lost creature as I am to sign yourself always my friend always is a bold word my dear old governess I wonder whether you will ever want to recall it it will make no difference if you do in the gratitude I shall always feel for the trouble you took with me when I was a little girl I have ill repaid that trouble ill repaid your kindness to me in afterlife I ask your pardon and your pity the best thing you can do for both of us is to forget me affectionately yours Magdalene P.S. I open the envelope to add one line for God's sake don't show this letter to Nora 11 from Magdalene to Captain Ragh Vauxhall Walk July 17th if I am not mistaken it was arranged that I should write to you at Birmingham as soon as I felt myself composed enough to think of the future my mind is settled at last and I am now able to accept the services which you have so unreservedly offered to me I beg you or forgive the manner in which I received you on your arrival in this house after hearing the news of my sudden illness I was quite incapable of controlling myself I was suffering an agony of mind which for the time deprived me of my senses it is only your duty that I should now thank you for treating me with great forbearance at a time when forbearance was mercy I will mention what I wish you to do as plainly and briefly as I can in the first place I request you to dispose as privately as possible of every article of costume used in the dramatic entertainment I have done with our performances forever and I wish to be set free from everything which might accidentally connect me with them in the future the key of my box is enclosed in this letter the other box which contains my own dresses you will be kind enough to forward to this house I do not ask you to bring it yourself because I have a far more important commission to entrust to you referring to the note which you left for me at your departure I conclude that you have by this time traced Mr. Noel Vanstone from Vauxhall Walk to the residence which he is now occupying if you have made the discovery and if you are quite sure of not having drawn the attention of either Mrs. LeCount or her master to yourself I wish you to arrange immediately for my residing with you and Mrs. Ragh in the same town or village in which Mr. Noel Vanstone has taken up his abode I write this it is hardly necessary to say under the impression that you may now be living he has settled in the place for some little time if you can find a small furnished house for me on these conditions which is to be let by the month take it for a month certain to begin with say that it is for your wife your niece and yourself and use any assumed name you please as long as it is a name that can be trusted to defeat the most suspicious inquiries leave this to your experience in such matters the secret of who we really are must be kept as strictly as if it were a secret on which our lives depend any expenses to which you may be put in carrying out my wishes I will immediately repay if you easily find the sort of house I want there is no need for your returning to London to fetch us we can join you as soon as we know where to go the house must be perfectly respectable and must be reasonably near to Mr Noel Van Steen's present residence wherever that is you must allow me to be silent in this letter as to the object which I have now in view I am unwilling to risk an explanation in writing when all our preparations are made you shall hear what I propose to do from my own lips and I shall expect you to tell me plainly in return whether you will or will not give me the help I want on the best terms which I am able to offer you one word more before I seal up this letter if any opportunity falls in your way after you have taken the house and before we join you of exchanging a few civil words either with Mr Noel Van Steen or Mrs LeCount take advantage of it it is very important to my present object that we should become acquainted with each other as the purely accidental result of our being neighbours I want you to smooth the way toward this end if you can before Mrs Rag and I come to you pray throw away no chance of observing Mrs LeCount in particular very carefully whatever help you can give me at the outset in blind folding that woman's sharp eyes will be the most precious help ever received at your hands there is no need to answer this letter immediately unless I have written it under a mistaken impression of what you have accomplished since leaving London I have taken our lodgings on for another week and I can wait to hear from you until you are able to send me such news as I wish to receive you may be quite sure of my patience for the future under all possible circumstances my caprices are at an end and my violent temper has tried your forbearance for the last time Magdalen 12. From Captain Rag to Magdalen North Shingles Villa Oldborough, Suffolk July 22 My dear girl your letter has charmed and touched me your excuses have gone straight to my heart and your confidence in my humble abilities has followed in the same direction the pulse of the old militiaman throbs with pride as he thinks of the trust you have placed in him and vows to deserve it don't be surprised at this genial outburst all enthusiastic natures must explode occasionally and my form of explosion is words everything you wanted me to do is done the house is taken, the name is found and I am personally acquainted with Mrs. LeCount after reading this general statement you will naturally be interested in possessing your mind next of the accompanying details here they are at your service the day after leaving you in London I traced Mr. Noel Vanstone to this curious little seaside snuggery one of his father's innumerable bargains was a house at Oldborough a rising watering place or Mr. Michael Vanstone would not have invested a farthing in it in this house the despicable little miser who lived rent free in London now lives rent free again on the coast of Suffolk he has settled in his present abode for the summer and autumn and you and Mrs. Ragh have only to join me here to be established five doors away from him in this elegant villa I have got the whole house for three guineas a week with the option of remaining through the autumn at the same price in a fashionable watering place such a residence would have been cheap at double the money our new name has been chosen with a wary eye to your suggestions my books I hope you have not forgotten my books contain under the heading of skins to jump into a list of individuals retired from this mortal scene with whose names, families and circumstances I am well acquainted into some of those skins I have been compelled to jump in the exercise of my profession at former periods of my career others are still in the condition of new dresses and remain to be tried on the skin which will exactly fit us originally closed the bodies of a family named Bygrave I am in Mr Bygrave's skin at this moment and it fits without a wrinkle if you will oblige me by slipping into Miss Bygrave Christian name Susan and if you will afterward push Mrs Ragh anyhow head foremost if you like into Mrs Bygrave Christian name Julia the transformation will be complete permit me to inform you that I am your paternal uncle my worthy brother was established 20 years ago in the Mahogany and logwood trade at Belize he died in that place and is buried on the southwest side of the local cemetery with a neat monument of native wood carved by a self-taught negro artist 19 months afterward his widow died of apoplexy at a boarding house in Cheltenham she was supposed to be the most corpulent woman in England and was accommodated on the ground floor of the house in consequence of the difficulty she grew up and downstairs you are her only child you have been under my care since the sad event at Cheltenham you are 21 years old on the 2nd of August next and corpulence accepted you are the living image of your mother I trouble you with these specimens of my intimate knowledge of our new family skin to quiet your mind on the subject of future inquiries trust to me and my books and satisfy any amount of inquiry in the meantime write down our new name and address and see how they strike you Mr. Bygrave, Mrs. Bygrave Miss Bygrave North Schingle Villa, Oldborough upon my life it reads remarkably well the last detail I have to communicate refers to my acquaintance with Mrs. LeCount we met yesterday at a shop here keeping my ears open I found that Mrs. LeCount wanted a particular kind of tea which the man had not got and which he believed could not be procured any nearer than Ipswich I instantly saw my way to beginning an acquaintance at the trifling expense of a journey to that flourishing city I have business today in Ipswich I said and I propose returning to Oldborough sometime this evening pray allowing me to take your order for the tea and to bring it back with my own parcels Mrs. LeCount politely declined giving me the trouble I politely insisted on taking it we fell into conversation there is no need to trouble you with our talk the result of it on my mind is that Mrs. LeCount's one weak point if she has such a thing at all is a taste for science implanted by her deceased husband the professor I think I see a chance here of working my way into her good graces and casting a little needful dust into those handsome black eyes of hers acting on this idea when I purchased the latest tea at Ipswich I also bought on my own account that far famed pocket manual of knowledge Joyce's scientific dialogues possessing as I do a quick memory and boundless confidence in myself I propose privately inflating my new skin with as much ready-made science as it will hold I'm presenting Mr. Bygrave to Mrs. LeCount's notice in the character of the most highly informed man she has met with since the professor's death the necessity of blindfolding that woman to use your own admirable expression is as clear to me as to you if it is to be done in the way I propose make your mind easy rag, inflated by Joyce is the man to do it you now have my whole budget of news am I or am I not worthy of your confidence in me I say nothing of my devouring anxiety to know what your objects really are that anxiety will be satisfied when we meet never yet my dear girl did I long to administer a productive, pecuniary squeeze to any human creature as I long to administer it to Mr. Noel VanStone I say no more verbom sap pardon the pedantry of a Latin quotation and believe me entirely yours heratio rag p.s. I await my instructions as you requested you have only to say pardon for the purpose of escorting you to this place or whether I shall wait here to receive you the house is in perfect order the weather is charming and the sea is as smooth as Mrs. LeCount's apron she has just passed the window and we have exchanged bows a sharp woman my dear Magdalen but Joyce and I together may prove a trifle too much for her 13. Extract from the East Suffolk Argus Aldebra we notice with pleasure the arrival of visitors to this healthful and far famed watering place earlier in the season than usual during the present year esto perpetua is all we have to say visitors list arrival since our last north shingles villa Mrs. Bygrave Miss Bygrave end of between the third and fourth scenes scene 4 chapter 1 of no name this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org no name by Wilkie Collins fourth scene chapter 1 Aldebra Suffolk the most striking spectacle presented to a stranger by the shores of Suffolk is the extraordinary defenselessness of the land against the encroachments of the sea at Aldebra as elsewhere on this coast local traditions are for the most part traditions which have been literally drowned the sites of the old town once a populous and thriving port has almost entirely disappeared in the sea the German ocean has swallowed up streets market places jetties and public walks and the merciless waters consummating their work of devastation closed no longer than 80 years since over the salt masters cottage at Aldebra now famous in memory only as the birthplace of the poet Crab thrust back year after year by the advancing waves the inhabitants have receded in the present century to the last morsel of land which is firm enough to be built on a strip of ground hemmed in between a marsh on one side and the sea on the other here trusting for their future security to certain sandhills which the capricious waves have thrown up to encourage them the people of Aldebra have boldly established their quaint little watering place the first fragment of their earthly possessions is a low natural dike of shingle surmounted by a public path which runs parallel with the sea bordering this path in a broken uneven line are the villa residences of modern Aldebra fanciful little houses standing mostly in their own gardens and possessing here and there as horticultural ornaments staring figureheads of ships doing duty for statues among the flowers viewed from the low level on which these villas stand the sea in certain conditions of the atmosphere appears to be higher than the land coasting vessels gliding by assume gigantic proportions and look seemingly near the windows intermixed with the houses of the better sort are buildings of other forms and periods in one direction the tiny gothic town hall of old Aldebra once the centre of the vanished port and burrow now stands fronting the modern villas close on the margin of the sea at another point a wooden tower of observation a figurehead of a wrecked Russian vessel rises high above the neighbouring houses and discloses through its scuttle window grave men in dark clothing seated on the topmost story perpetually on the watch the pilots of Aldebra looking out from their tower for ships in want of help behind the row of buildings thus curiously intermingled runs the one struggling street down with its sturdy pilot's cottages its mouldering marine stores and its composite shops toward the northern end this street is bounded by the one eminence visible over all the marshy flat a low wooded hill on which the church is built at its opposite extremity the street leads to a deserted martello tower and to the forlorn outlying suburb of Slordan between the river Old and the sea such are the main characteristics of this curious little outpost on the shores of England as it appears at the present time on a hot and cloudy July afternoon and on the second day which had elapsed since he had written to Magdalen Captain Ragh sauntered through the gate of north shingles villa to meet the arrival of the coach which then connected Oldborough with the eastern Count's railway he reached the principal in as the coach drove up and was ready at the door to receive Magdalen and Mrs Ragh on their leaving the vehicle the captain's reception of his wife was not characterised by an instance unnecessary waste of time he looked distrustfully at her shoes raised himself on tiptoe set her bonnet straight for her with a sharp tug said in a loud whisper hold your tongue and left her for the time being without further notice his welcome to Magdalen beginning with the usual flow of words stopped suddenly in the middle of the first sentence Captain Ragh's eye was a sharp one and it instantly shook something in the look and manner of his old pupil which denoted a serious change there was a settled composure on her face which except when she spoke made it look as still and cold as marble her voice was softer and more equable her eyes were steadier her step was slower than of old when she smiled the smile came and went suddenly and showed a little nervous contraction on one side of her mouth never visible there before she was perfectly patient with Mrs. Ragh she treated the captain with a courtesy and consideration entirely new in his experience of her but she was interested in nothing the curious little shops in the back street the high impending sea the old town hall on the beach the pilots the fishermen the passing ships she noticed all these objects as indifferently as if Oldborough had been familiar to her from her infancy even when the captain drew up at the garden gate of north shingles and introduced her triumphantly to the new house she hardly looked at it the first question she asked related not to her own residence but to Noel Van Stones how near to us does he live she inquired with the only betrayal of emotion which had escaped her yet captain Ragh answered by pointing to the fifth villa from north shingles on the slaughtered side of Oldborough Magdalene suddenly drew back from the garden gate as he indicated the situation and walked away by herself to obtain a nearer view of the house captain Ragh looked after her and shook his head discontentedly may I speak now inquired a meek voice behind him articulating respectfully ten inches above the top of his straw hat the captain turned round and confronted his wife the more than ordinary bewilderment visible in her face at once suggested to him that Magdalene had failed to carry out the directions in his letter and that Mrs. Ragh had arrived at Oldborough without being properly aware of the total transformation to be accomplished in her identity and her name the necessity of setting this doubt at rest was too serious to be trifled with and captain Ragh instituted the necessary inquiries without a moment's delay stand straight and listen to me he began I have a question to ask you do you know whose skin you are in at this moment do you know that you are dead and buried in London and that you have risen like a phoenix from the ashes of Mrs. Ragh no don't know it this is perfectly disgraceful what is your name Matilda answered Mrs. Ragh in a state of the densest bewilderment nothing of the sort cried the captain fiercely how dare you tell me your name is Matilda your name is Julia who am I hold that basket of sandwiches straight or I'll pitch it into the sea who am I I don't know said Mrs. Ragh meekly taking refuge in the negative side of the question this time sit down said her husband pointing to the low garden wall of North Schinglesville more to the right more still that will do you don't know meekly confronting his wife as soon as he had contrived by seating her to place her face on a level with his own don't let me hear you say that a second time don't let me have a woman who doesn't know who I am to operate on my beard tomorrow morning look at me more to the left more still that will do who am I I missed a by grave grave. Christian name Thomas. Who are you? Your Mrs by grave. Christian name Julia. Who is that young lady who travelled with you from London? That young lady is Miss by grave. Christian name Susan. I'm her clever Uncle Tom and you're her Addleheaded Aunt Julia. Say it all over to me instantly like the catachism. What is your name? Spare my poor head pleaded Mrs Ragh. Oh please spare my poor head till I've got the stagecoach out of it. Don't distress her, said Magdalen, joining them at that moment. She will learn it in time. Come into the house. Captain Ragh shook his weary head once more. We are beginning badly, he said, with less politeness than usual. My wife's stupidity stands in our way already. They went into the house. Magdalen was perfectly satisfied with all the captain's arrangements. She accepted the room which he had set apart for her, approved of the woman-servant whom he had engaged, presented herself at tea-time the moment she was summoned, but still showed no interest whatever in the new scene around her. Soon after the table was cleared, although the daylight had not yet faded out, Mrs Ragh's customary drowsiness after fatigue of any kind overcame her, and she received her husband's orders to leave the room, taking care that she left it up at heel, and to butake herself, strictly in the character of Mrs Bygrave, to bed. As soon as they were left alone the captain looked hard at Magdalen and waited to be spoken to. She said nothing. He ventured next on opening the conversation by a polite inquiry after the state of her health. You look fatigued, he remarked, in his most insinuating manner. I am afraid the journey has been too much for you. No, she said, looking out listlessly through the window. I am not more tired than usual. I am always weary now, weary at going to bed, weary at getting up. If you would like to hear what I have to say to you tonight, I am willing and ready to say it. Can't we go out? It is very hot here, and the droning of those men's voices is beyond all endurance. She pointed to a group of boatmen idling, as only nautical men can idle against the garden wall. Is there no quiet walk in this wretched place? she asked, impatiently. Can't we breathe a little fresh air, and escape being annoyed by strangers? There is perfect solitude within half an hour's walk of the house, replied the ready captain. Very well, come out then. With a weary sigh she took up her straw bonnet and her light muslin scarf from the side table upon which she had thrown them on coming in, and carelessly led the way to the door. Captain Rag followed her to the garden gate, then stopped, struck by a new idea. Excuse me, he whispered confidentially, in my wife's existing state of ignorance as to who she is, we had better not trust her alone in the house with a new servant. I'll privately turn the key on her, in case she wakes before we come back. Safe bind, safe find, you know the proverb, I will be with you again in a moment. He hastened back to the house, and Magdalen seated herself on the garden wall to await his return. She had hardly settled herself in that position when two gentlemen walking together, whose approach along the public path she had not previously noticed, passed close by her. The dress of one of the two strangers showed him to be a clergyman. His companion's station in life was less easily discernible to ordinary observation. Practiced eyes would probably have seen enough in his look, his manner, and his walk to show that he was a sailor. He was a man in the prime of life, tall, spare, and muscular. His face sunburned to a deep brown, his black hair just turning grey, his eyes dark, deep, and firm, the eyes of a man with an iron resolution, and a habit of command. He was the nearest of the two to Magdalen, as he and his friend passed the place where she was sitting, and he looked at her with a sudden surprise at her beauty, with an open, hearty, undisguised admiration, which was too evidently sincere, too evidently beyond his own control, to be justly resented as insolent. And yet, in her humour at that moment, Magdalen did resent it. She felt the man's resolute black eyes strike through her with an electric suddenness, and frowning at him impatiently she turned away her head and looked back at the house. The next moment she glanced round again to see if he had gone on. He had advanced a few yards, had then evidently stopped, and was now in the very act of turning to look at her once more. His companion, the clergyman, noticing that Magdalen appeared to be annoyed, took him familiarly by the arm, and, half in jest, half in earnest, forced him to walk on. The two disappeared round the corner of the next house. As they turned it, the sunburned sailor twice stopped his companion again, and twice looked back. A friend of yours, inquired Captain Ragh, joining Magdalen at that moment, certainly not, she replied. A perfect stranger, he stared at me in the most impertinent manner. Does he belong to this place? I'll find out in a moment, said the compliant Captain, joining the group of boatmen, and putting his questions right and left with the easy familiarity which distinguished him. He returned in a few minutes with a complete budget of information. The clergyman was well known as the rector of a place situated some few miles inland. The dark man with him was his wife's brother, commander of a ship in the merchant's service. He was supposed to be staying with his relatives, as their guest for a short time only, preparatory to sailing on another voyage. The clergyman's name was Strickland, and the merchant captain's name was Kirk, and that was all the boatmen knew about either of them. It is of no consequence who they are, said Magdalen carelessly. The man's rudeness merely annoyed me for a moment. Let us have done with him. I have something else to think of, and so have you. Where is the solitary walk you mentioned just now? Which way do we go? The captain pointed southward towards Slaudon, and offered his arm. Magdalen hesitated before she took it. Her eyes wandered away inquiringly to Noel Vanstone's house. He was out in the garden, pacing backward and forward over the little lawn, with his head high in the air, and with Mrs. LeCount de murely in attendance on him, carrying her master's green fan. Seeing this, Magdalen at once took Captain Ragh's right arm, so as to place herself nearest to the garden, when they passed it on their walk. The eyes of our neighbours are on us, and the least your niece can do is to take your arm, she said with a bitter laugh. Come, let us go on. They are looking this way, whispered the captain. Will I introduce you to Mrs. LeCount? Not to-night, she answered, wait, and hear what I have to say to you first. They passed the garden wall. Captain Ragh took off his hat with a smart flourish, and received a gracious bow from Mrs. LeCount in return. Magdalen saw the housekeeper survey her face, her figure, and her dress, with that reluctant interest, that distrustful curiosity which women feel in observing each other. As she walked on beyond the house, the sharp voice of Noel Vanstone reached her through the evening stillness. A fine girl, LeCount, she heard him say, you know, I am a judge of that sort of thing. A fine girl? As those words were spoken, Captain Ragh looked round at his companion in sudden surprise. Her hand was trembling violently on his arm, and her lips were fast closed with an expression of speechless pain. Slowly, and in silence, the two walked on until they reached the southern limit of the houses, and entered on a little wilderness of shingle and withered grass, the desolate end of Old Bra, the lonely beginning of Slaudon. It was a dull, airless evening. Southward was the grey majesty of the sea, hushed in breathless calm, the horizon line invisibly melting into the monotonous, misty sky. The idle ship shadowy, and still on the idle water. Southward, the high ridge of the sea-dike, and the grim, massive circle of a martello-tower reared high on its mound of grass. Closed the view darkly on all that lay beyond. Nextward, a lurid streak of sunset glowed red in the dreary heaven, blackened the fringing trees on the far borders of the great inland marsh, and turned its little gleaming water-pools to pools of blood. Nearer to the eye the solemn flow of the tidal river-old ebbed noiselessly from the muddy banks, and nearer still, lonely and unprosperous by the bleak water-side lay the lost little port of Slordan, with its forlorn wharfs and warehouses of decaying wood, and its few scattered coasting vessels, deserted on the usey river-shore. No fall of waves was heard on the beach. No trickling of waters bubbled audibly from the idle stream. Now and then the cry of a sea-bird rose from the region of the marsh, and at intervals, from farm-houses far in the inland waste, the faint winding of horns to call the cattle home travelled mournfully through the evening calm. Magdalen drew her hand from the captain's arm, and led the way to the mound of the Martello Tower. I am weary of walking, she said, let us stop and rest here. She seated herself on the slope, and resting on her elbow, mechanically pulled up, and scattered from her into the air, the tufts of grass growing under her hand. After silently occupying herself in this way for some minutes, she turned suddenly on Captain Rag. Do I surprise you? she asked, with a startling abruptness. Do you find me changed? The captain's ready tact warned him that the time had come to be plain with her, and to reserve his flowers of speech for a more appropriate occasion. If you ask the question, I must answer it, he replied. Yes, I do find you changed. She pulled up another tuft of grass. I suppose you can guess the reason, she said. The captain was wisely silent. He only answered by a bow. I have lost all care for myself, she went on, tearing faster and faster at the tufts of grass. Saying that is not saying much perhaps, but it may help you to understand me. There are things I would have died sooner than do at one time. Things it would have turned me cold to think of. I don't care now whether I do them or not. I am nothing to myself. I am no more interested in myself than I am in these handfuls of grass. I suppose I have lost something. What is it? Heart? Conscience? I don't know, do you? What nonsense I am talking! Who cares what I have lost? It has gone, and there is an end of it. I suppose my outside is the best side of me, and that's left at any rate. I have not lost my good looks, have I? There, there, never mind answering. Don't trouble yourself to pay me compliments. I have been admired enough to-day. That's the sailor, and then Mr. Noel Vanstone. Enough for any woman's vanity, surely. Have I any right to call myself a woman? Perhaps not. I am only a girl in my teens. Oh, me, I feel as if I was forty. She scattered the last fragments of grass to the winds, and turning her back on the captain, let her head droop till her cheek touched the turf-bank. It feels soft and friendly. She said, nestling to it, with a hopeless tenderness horrible to see. It doesn't cast me off. Mother Earth, the only mother I have left! Captain Rag looked at her in silent surprise. Such experience of humanity as he possessed was powerless to sound to its depths the terrible self-abandonment which had burst its way to the surface in her reckless words, which was now fast hurrying her to actions more reckless still. Devilish odd, he thought to himself uneasily, as the loss of her lover turned her brain. He considered for a minute longer, and then spoke to her. Leave it till to-morrow, suggested the captain confidentially. You are a little tired to-night. No hurry, my dear girl, no hurry. She raised her head instantly, and looked round at him, with the same angry resolution, with the same desperate defiance of herself which he had seen in her face, on the memorable day at York, when she had acted before him for the first time. I came here to tell you what is in my mind, she said, and I will tell it. She seated herself upright on the slope, and, clasping her hands around her knees, looked out steadily, straight before her, at the slowly darkening view. In that strange position she waited until she had composed herself, and then addressed the captain, without turning her head to look round at him, in these words. When you and I first met, she began abruptly, I tried hard to keep my thoughts to myself. I know enough by this time to know that I failed. When I first told you at York, that Michael Vanstone had ruined us, I believe you guessed for yourself that I, for one, was determined not to submit to it. Whether you guessed or not it is so. I left my friends with that determination in my mind, and I feel it in me now stronger, ten times stronger than ever. Ten times stronger than ever, echoed the captain, exactly so, the natural result of firmness of character. No, the natural result of having nothing else to think of. I had something else to think of before you found me ill in Vauxhall Walk, I have nothing else to think of now. Remember that, if you find me for the future always harping on the same string. One question first, did you guess what I meant to do on that morning when you showed me the newspaper, and when I read the account of Michael Vanstone's death? Generally, replied Captain Rag, I guessed generally that you proposed dipping your hand into his purse and taking from it, most properly, what was your own. I felt deeply hurt at the time by your not permitting me to assist you. Why is she so reserved with me? I remarked to myself. Why is she so unreasonably reserved? You shall have no reserve to complain of now, pursued Magdalene. I tell you plainly, if events had not happened as they did, you would have assisted me. If Michael Vanstone had not died, I should have gone to Brighton, and have found my way safely to his acquaintance under an assumed name. I had money enough with me to live on, respectively, for many months together. I would have employed that time. I would have waited the whole year, if necessary, to destroy Mrs. La Count's influence over him, and I would have ended by getting that influence on my own terms into my own hands. I had the advantage of years, the advantage of novelty, the advantage of downright desperation all on my side, and I should have succeeded. Before the year was out, you should have seen Mrs. La Count dismissed by her master, and you should have seen me taken into the house in her place as Michael Vanstone's adopted daughter, as the faithful friend who had saved him from an adventurous in his old age. Those no older than I am have tried deceptions as hopeless in appearance as mine, and have carried them through to the end. I had my story ready. I had my plans all considered. I had the weak point in that old man to attack in my way, which Mrs. La Count had found out before me, to attack in hers. And I tell you again, I should have succeeded. I think you would, said the Captain, and what next? Mr. Michael Vanstone would have changed his man of business next. You would have succeeded to the place, and those clever speculations on which he was so fond of venturing would have cost him the fortunes of which he had robbed my sister and myself. To the last farthing, Captain Rag, as certainly as you sit there, to the last farthing, a bold conspiracy, a shocking deception, wasn't it? I don't care, any conspiracy, any deception is justified to my conscience by the vile law which has left us helpless. You talked of my reserve just now. Have I dropped it at last? Have I spoken out at the eleventh hour? The Captain laid his hand solemnly on his heart and launched himself once more on his broadest flow of language. You fill me with unavailing regret, he said. If that old man had lived, what a crop I might have reaped from him! What enormous transactions in moral agriculture it might have been my privilege to carry on. Ours longer, said the Captain Rag, pathetically drifting into Latin. Vita Brevis! Let's drop a tear on the lost opportunities of the past, and try what the present can do to console us. One conclusion is clear to my mind. The experiment you propose to try with Michael Vanstone is totally hopeless, my dear girl, in the case of his son. His son is impervious to all common forms of pecuniary temptation. You may trust my solemn assurance, continued the Captain, speaking with an indignant recollection of the answer to his advertisement in the Times. When I inform you that Mr. Noel Vanstone is emphatically the meanest of mankind. I can trust my own experience as well, said Magdalen. I have seen him, and spoken to him. I know him better than you do. Another disclosure, Captain Rag, for your private ear. I sent you back certain articles of costume, when they had served the purpose for which I took them to London. That purpose was to find my way to Noel Vanstone in disguise, and to judge for myself of Mrs. LeCount and her master. I gained my object, and I tell you again, I know the two people in that house yonder whom we have now to deal with better than you do. Captain Rag expressed the profound astonishment, and asked the innocent questions appropriate to the mental condition of a person taken completely by surprise. Well, he resumed, when Magdalen had briefly answered him, and what is the result of your own mind? There must be a result, or we should not be here. You see your way? Of course, my dear girl, you see your way. Yes, she said quickly, I see my way. The Captain drew a little nearer to her, with eager curiosity expressed in every line of his vagabond face. Go on, he said, in an anxious whisper, pray, go on. She looked out thoughtfully into the gathering darkness without answering, without appearing to have heard him. Her lips closed, and her clasped hands tightened mechanically round her knees. There is no disguising the fact, said Captain Rag, warily rousing her into speaking to him. The son is harder to deal with than the father. Not in my way, she interposed suddenly. Indeed, said the Captain, well, they say there is a short cut to everything. If we only look long enough to find it, you have looked long enough, I suppose, and the natural result has followed. You have found it. I have not troubled myself to look. I have found it without looking, the juice you have, cried Captain Rag, in great perplexity. My dear girl, is my view of your present position leading me all together astray? As I understand it, here is Mr. Noel Vanstone in possession of your fortune and your sisters, as his father was, and determined to keep it, as his father was. Yes. And here you are, quite helpless to get it by persuasion, quite helpless to get it by law, just as resolute in his ease as you were in his father's, to take it by stratagem in spite of him, just as resolute. Not for the sake of the fortune, mind that, for the sake of the right. Just so. And the means of coming at that right, which were hard with the father, who was not a miser, or easy with the son, who is? Perfectly easy. Righted me down and asked for the first time in my life, cried the Captain, at the end of his patience, hang me if I know what you mean. She looked round at him for the first time, looked him straight and steady in the face. I will tell you what I mean, she said, I mean to marry him. Him rags started up on his knees and stopped on them, petrified by astonishment. Remember what I told you, said Magdalen, looking away from him again. I have lost all care for myself. I have only one end in life now, and the sooner I reach it and die, the better. If she stopped, altered her position a little, and pointed, with one hand, to the fast ebbing stream beneath her, gleaming dim in the darkening twilight. If I had been what I once was, I would have thrown myself into that river sooner than do what I am going to do now. As it is, I trouble myself no longer. I weary my mind with no more schemes. The short way and the vile way lies before me. I take it, Captain Rag, and marry him. Marrying him, in total ignorance of who you are, said the Captain, slowly rising to his feet and slowly moving round so as to see her face, marrying him as my niece, Miss Bygrave, as your niece, Miss Bygrave. And after the marriage, his voice faltered, and he began the question, and he left it unfinished. After the marriage, she said, I shall stand in no further need of your assistance. The Captain stooped as she gave him that answer, looked close at her, and suddenly drew back without uttering a word. He walked away some paces and sat down again doggedly on the grass. If Magdalen could have seen his face in a dying light, his face would have startled her, for the first time probably since his boyhood. Captain Rag had changed colour. He was deadly pale. Have you nothing to say to me? She asked. Perhaps you are waiting to hear what terms I have to offer. These are my terms. I pay all our expenses here, and when we part, on the day of the marriage, you take a farewell gift away with you of two hundred pounds. Do you promise me your assistance on those conditions? What am I expected to do? he asked, with a furtive glance at her, and a sudden distrust in his voice. You are expected to preserve my assumed character and your own, she answered. And you are to prevent any inquiries of Mrs. La Counte from discovering who I really am. I ask no more. The rest is my responsibility, not yours. I have nothing to do with what happens at any time or in any place after the marriage. Nothing whatever. I may leave you at the church door if I please. At the church door, with your fee in your pocket, paid from the money in your own possession, certainly how else should I pay it? Captain Rag took off his hat and passed his handkerchief over his face with an air of relief. Give me a minute to consider it, he said. As many minutes as you like, she rejoined, reclining on the bank in her former position, and returning to her former occupation of tearing up the tufts of grass and flinging them out into the air. The captain's reflections were not complicated by any unnecessary divergences from the contemplation of his own position to the contemplation of Magdalene's. Utterly incapable of appreciating the injury done her by Frank's infamous treachery to his engagement, an injury which had severed her, at one cruel blow from the aspiration which, delusion though it was, had been the saving aspiration for her life. Captain Rag accepted the simple fact of her despair, just as he found it, and then looked straight to the consequences of the proposal which she had made to him. In the prospect before the marriage he saw nothing more serious involved than the practice of a deception, in no important degree different, except in the end to be attained by it, from the deceptions which his vagabond life had long since accustomed him to contemplate and to carry out. In the prospect after the marriage he dimly discerned, through the ominous darkness of the future, the lurking phantoms of terror and crime, and the black gulfs behind them of ruin and death. A man of boundless audacity and resource within his own mean limits. Beyond those limits the captain was as deferentially submissive to the majesty of the law as the most harmless man in existence, as cautious in looking after his own personal safety as the various coward that ever walked the earth. But one serious question now filled his mind. Could he, on the terms proposed to him, join the conspiracy against Nelvannstown, up to the point of the marriage, and then withdraw from it, without risk of involving himself in the consequences which his experience told him must certainly ensue? Strange as it may seem, his decision in this emergency was mainly influenced by no lesser person than Nelvannstown himself. The captain might have resisted the money offer which Magdalene had made to him, for the profits of the entertainment had filled his pockets with more than three times two hundred pounds. But the prospect of dealing a blow in the dark at the man who had estimated his information and himself at the value of a five pound note proved too much for his caution and his self-control. On the small neutral ground of self-important, the best men and the worst meet on the same terms. Captain Ragh's indignation, when he saw the answer to his advertisement, stooped to no retrospective estimate of his own conduct. He was as deeply offended, as sincerely angry, as if he had made a perfectly honourable proposal, and had been rewarded for it by a personal insult. He had been too full of his own grievance to keep it out of his first letter to Magdalene. He had more or less forgotten himself on every subsequent occasion when Nelvannstown's name was mentioned, and in now finally deciding the course he should take, it is not too much to say that the motive of money receded for the first time in his life, into the second place, and the motive of malice carried the day. I accept the terms, said Captain Ragh, getting briskly on his legs again. Subject, of course, to the conditions agreed on between us. We part on the wedding-day. I don't ask you where you go. You don't ask where I go. From that time forth we are strangers to each other. Magdalene rose slowly from the mound. A hopeless depression, a sullen despair, showed itself in her look and manner. She refused the captain's offered hand, and her tones, when she answered him, were so low he could hardly hear her. We understand each other, she said, and we can now go back. You may introduce me to Mrs. LeCount tomorrow. I must ask a few questions first, said the captain gravely. There are more risks to be run in this matter, and more pitfalls in our way than you seem to suppose. I must know the whole history of your morning call on Mrs. LeCount before I put you and that woman on speaking terms with each other. I'll wait till tomorrow, she broke out impatiently. Don't madden me by talking about it tonight. The captain said no more. They turned their faces toward Albre and walked slowly back. By the time they reached the houses, night had overtaken them. Neither moon nor stars were visible. A faint, noiseless breeze blowing from the land had come with the darkness. Magdalene paused on the lonely public walk to breathe the air more freely. After a while she turned her face from the breeze and looked out toward the sea. The immeasurable silence of the calm waters, lost in the black void of night, was awful. She stood looking into the darkness, as if his mystery had no secrets for her. She advanced towards it slowly, as if it drew her by some hidden attraction into itself. I'm going down to the sea, she said to her companion. Wait here, and I will come back. He lost sight of her in an instant. It was as if the night had swallowed her up. She listened and counted her footsteps by the crashing of them on the shingle in the deep stillness. They retreated slowly, further and further away into the night. Suddenly the sound of them ceased. Had she paused on her course, or had she reached one of the strips of sand left bare by the ebbing tide? He waited and listened anxiously. The time passed and no sound reached him. He still listened, with a growing distrust of the darkness. Another moment and there came a sound from the invisible shore, far and faint from the beach below, a long cry moaned through the silence. Then all was still once more. In sudden alarm he stepped forward to descend to the beach, and to call to her. Before he could cross the path, footsteps rapidly advancing caught his ear. He waited an instant, and the figure of a man passed quickly along the walk between him and the sea. It was too dark to discern anything of the stranger's face. It was only possible to see that he was a tall man, as tall as that officer in the merchant's service whose name was Kirk. The figure passed on northward and was instantly lost to view. Captain Rag crossed the path, and, advancing a few steps down the beach, stopped and listened again. The crash of footsteps on the shingle caught his ear once more. Slowly as the sound had left him, that sound now came back. He called to guide her to him. She came on till he could just see her, a shadow ascending the shinglish slope, and growing out of the blackness of the night. �You alarmed me,� he whispered nervously. I was afraid something had happened. I heard you cry out as if you were in pain. �Did you?� she said carelessly. �I was in pain. It doesn't matter. It's over now. Her hand mechanically swung something to and fro as she answered him. It was the little white silk bag, which she had always kept hidden in her bosom up to this time. One of the relics which it held, one of the relics which she had not had the heart to part with before, was gone from its keeping forever. Alone on a strange shore she had torn from her the fondest of her virgin memories, the dearest of her virgin hopes. Alone on a strange shore she had taken the lock of Frank's hair from its once-treasured place, and had cast it away from her to the sea and the night. CHAPTER II The tall man, who had passed Captain Ragh in the dark, proceeded rapidly along the public walk, struck off across a little waste-patch of ground, and entered the open door of the Oldborough Hotel. The light in the passage, falling full on his face as he passed it, proved the truth of Captain Ragh's surmise, and showed the stranger to be Mr. Kirk of the merchant service. Using the landlord in the passage, Mr. Kirk nodded to him with the familiarity of an old customer. �Have you got the paper?� he asked. �I want to look at the visitor's list. �I've got it in my room, sir� said the landlord, leading the way into a parlour at the back of the house. �Are there any friends of yours staying here, do you think?� Without replying, the seamen turned to the list as soon as the newspaper was placed in his hand, and ran his finger down it, name by name. The finger suddenly stopped at this line. �See you, cottage, Mr. Noel Vanstone� Kirk of the merchant service repeated the name to himself, and put down the paper thoughtfully. �Have you found anybody you know, Captain?� asked the landlord. �I have found a name I know, a name my father used often to speak of in his time. Is this Mr. Vanstone a family man? Do you know if there is a young lady in the house? �I can't say, Captain. My wife will be here directly. She is sure to know. It must have been some time ago if your father knew this Mr. Vanstone. It was some time ago. My father knew a subaltern officer of that name when he was with his regiment in Canada. It would be curious if the person here turned out to be the same man, and if that young lady was his daughter. �Excuse me, Captain, but the young lady seems to hang a little on your mind� said the landlord with a pleasant smile. Mr. Kirk looked as if the form which his host's good humour had just taken was not quite to his mind. He returned abruptly to the subaltern officer and the regiment in Canada. �That poor fellow's story was as miserable a one as ever I heard� he said, looking back again absently at the visitor's list. �Would there be any harm in telling it, sir?� asked the landlord. �Misrable or not, a story is a story when you know it to be true. Mr. Kirk hesitated. �I hardly think I should be doing right to tell it� he said. �If this man or any relations of his are still alive, it is not a story they might like strangers to know. All I can tell you is that my father was the salvation of that young officer under very dreadful circumstances. They parted in Canada. My father remained with his regiment. The young officer sold out and returned to England, and from that moment they lost sight of each other. It would be curious if this van stone here was the same man. It would be curious. He suddenly checked himself just as another reference to the young lady was on the point of passing his lips. At the same moment the landlord's wife came in, and Mr. Kirk at once transferred his inquiries to the higher authority in the house. �Do you know anything of this Mr. Van Stone, who is down here on the visitor's list?� asked the sailor. �Is he an old man?� �He is a miserable little creature to look at� replied the landlady. �But he is not old captain. �Then he is not the man I mean. Perhaps he is the man's son. Has he got any ladies with him?� The landlady tossed her head and pursed up her lips disparagingly. �He has a housekeeper with him� she said. �A middle-aged person, not one of my sort. I dare say I am wrong, but I don't like a dressy woman in her station of life� Mr. Kirk began to look puzzled. �I must have made some mistake about the house� he said. �Surely there is a lawn-cut octagon shape at Seaview Cottage, and a white flagstaff in the middle of the gravel walk. �That's not Seaview, sir. It's North Shingles you are talking of� Mr. Bygraves. His wife and his niece came here by the coach today. His wife is tall enough to be put in a show, and the worst dressed woman I ever set eyes on. That Miss Bygrave is worth looking at, if I may venture to say so. �She's the finest girl, to my mind. We've had at Old Brough for many a long day. I wonder who they are. Do you know the name, Captain? �No� said Mr. Kirk, with a shade of disappointment on his dark, weather-beaten face. �I've never heard the name before� After replying in those words he rose to take his leave. The landlord vainly invited him to drink a parting glass. The landlady vainly pressed him to stay another ten minutes and try a cup of tea. He only replied that his sister expected him, and that he must return to the parsonage immediately. On leaving the hotel Mr. Kirk set his face westward and walked inland along the high road, as fast as the darkness would let him. �Bygrave� he thought to himself, �Now I know her name. How much am I the wiser for it?� If it had been Van Stone, my father's son might have had a chance of making acquaintance with her. He stopped and looked back in the direction of Old Brough. �What a fool I am� he burst out suddenly, striking his stick on the ground. �I was forty last birthday� He turned and went on again, faster than ever, his head down, his resolute black eyes searching the darkness on the land as they had searched it many a time on the sea from the deck of ship. After more than an hour's walking he reached a village with a primitive little church and a parsonage nestled together in a hollow. He entered the house by the back way and found his sister, the clergyman's wife, sitting alone over her work in the parlor. �Where�s your husband, Lizzie?� he asked, taking a chair in a corner. William has gone out to see a sick person. He had just time enough before he went, she added with a smile, to tell me about the young lady, and he declares he will never trust himself at Old Brough with you again until you are a steady married man. She stopped and looked at her brother more attentively than she had looked at him yet. �Robert� she said, laying aside her work and suddenly crossing the room to him. �You look anxious, you look distressed� William only laughed about your meeting with the young lady. �Is it serious?� �Tell me, what is she like?� He turned his head away at the question. She took a stool at his feet and persisted in looking up at him. �Is it serious, Robert?� she repeated softly. Kirk�s weather-beaten face was accustomed to no concealments. It answered for him before he spoke a word. �Don�t tell your husband till I am gone� he said, with a roughness quite new in his sister�s experience of him. �I know I only deserve to be laughed at, but it hurts me for all that.� �Hurts you� she repeated in astonishment. �You can�t think me half such a fool, Lizzie, as I think myself� pursued Kirk bitterly. �A man at my age ought to know better� I didn�t set eyes on her for as much as a minute altogether, and there I have been hanging about the place till after nightfall on the chance of seeing her again, skulking I should have called it, if I had found one of my men doing what I have been doing myself, I believe I�m bewitched. �She�s a mere girl, Lizzie� I doubt if she�s out of her teens, I�m old enough to be her father. �It�s all one� she stops in my mind in spite of me. �I�ve had her face looking at me through the pitch darkness every step of the way to this house, and it�s looking at me now as plain as I see yours, and plainer. He rose impatiently, and began to walk backward and forward in the room. His sister looked after him, with surprise as well as sympathy expressed in her face. From his boyhood upward she had always been accustomed to see him master of himself. Years since, in the failing fortunes of the family, he had been their example and their support. She had heard of him in the desperate emergencies of her life at sea, when hundreds of his fellow-creatures had looked to his steady self-possession for rescue from close-threatening death, and had not looked in vain. Never in all her life before had his sister seen the balance of that calm and equal mind lost as she saw it lost now. �How can you talk so unreasonably about your age and yourself?� she said. There is not a woman alive, Robert, who is good enough for you. What is her name? Bygrave. Do you know it? No, but I might soon make acquaintance with her. If we only had a little time before us. If I could only get to Oldborough and see her. But you are going away tomorrow, your ship sails at the end of the week. �Thank God for that!� said Kirk fervently. �Are you glad to be going away?� she asked, more and more amazed at him. �Right, Glad Lizzie, for my own sake. If I ever get to my senses again, I shall find my way back to them on the deck of my ship. This girl has got between me and my thoughts already. She shan�t go a step further and get between me and my duty. I�m determined on that. Fool as I am, I have sense enough left not to trust myself, within easy hail of Oldborough tomorrow morning. I�m good for another twenty miles of walking, and I�ll begin my journey back to-night. His sister started up and caught him fast by the arm. �Robert� she exclaimed. �You�re not serious. You don�t mean to leave us on foot, alone in the dark. It�s only saying goodbye, my dear. The last thing at night, instead of the first thing in the morning,� he answered with a smile. �Try and make allowances for me, Lizzie. My life has been passed at sea, and I�m not used to having my mind upset in this way. Men are sure I use to it. Men are sure can take it easy. I can�t. If I stopped here, I shouldn�t rest. If I waited till tomorrow, I should only be going back to have another look at her. I don�t want to feel more ashamed of myself than I do already. I want to fight my way back to my duty and myself, without stopping to think twice about it. Darkness is nothing to me. I�m used to darkness. I�ve got the high road to walk on, and I can�t lose my way. Let me go, Lizzie. The only sweetheart I have any business with at my age is my ship. Let me get back to her. His sister still kept her hold of his arm, and still pleaded with him to stay till the morning. He listened to her with perfect patience and kindness, but she never shook his determination for an instant. �What am I to say to William?� she pleaded. What will he think when he comes back and finds you gone? �Tell him I have taken the advice he gave us in his sermon last Sunday. �Say I have turned my back on the world, the flesh and the devil. �How can you talk,� said Robert, �and the boys, too, you promised not to go without bidding the boys good-bye.� �That�s true. I made my little nephew�s a promise, and I�ll keep it. He kicked off his shoes as he spoke, on the mat outside the door. �Light me upstairs, Lizzie. I�ll bid the two boys good-bye without waking them.� She saw the uselessness of resisting him any longer, and taking the candle went before him upstairs. The boys, both young children, were sleeping together in the same bed. The youngest was his uncle�s favourite, and was called by his uncle�s name. He lay peacefully asleep, with a rough little toy ship hugged fast in his arms. Kirk�s eyes softened as he stole on tiptoe to the child�s side, and kissed him with the gentleness of a woman. �Poor little man� said the sailor tenderly. He is as fond of his ship as I was at his age. �I�ll cut him out a better one when I come back. �Will you give me my nephew one of these days, Lizzie? And will you let me make a sailor of him? �Oh, Robert, if you are only married and happy as I am. The time has gone by, my dear. I must make the best of it as I am, with my little nephew there to help me.� He left the room. His sister�s tears fell fast as she followed him into the parlor. �There is something so forlorn and dreadful in your leaving us like this,� she said. Shall I go to Old Britomoror, Robert, and try if I can get acquainted with her for your sake? �No,� he replied, �Let her be. If it�s ordered that I am to see that girl again, I shall see her.� �Leave it to the future, and you leave it right.� He put on his shoes, took up his hat, and stick. �I won�t overwalk myself,� he said cheerfully. �If the coach doesn�t overtake me on the road, I can wait for it where I stop to breakfast. Dry your eyes, my dear, and give me a kiss.� She was like her brother in features and complexion, and she had a touch of her brother�s spirit. She dashed away the tears, and took a leave of him bravely. �I shall be back any year�s time,� said Kirk, falling into his old sailor like way at the door. �I�ll bring you a china shawl, Lizzie, and a chest of tea for your storeroom. Don�t let the boys forget me, and don�t think I�m doing wrong to leave you in this way. I know I am doing right. God bless you and keep you, my dear, and your husband, and your children. Goodbye.� He stooped and kissed her. She ran to the door to look after him. A puff of air extinguished the candle, and the black knight shot him out from her in an instant. Three days afterward, the first-class merchantman, deliverance, Kirk, commander, sailed from London for the China Sea.