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Title: Sir Richard's grandson
        or, A soldier's son

Author: Eleanora H. Stooke

Release date: April 14, 2023 [eBook #70554]

Language: English

Original publication: United Kingdom: Gall and Inglis


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR RICHARD'S GRANDSON ***

Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.

[Illustration: "Oh!" he cried excitedly, "We're having such fun!"]


Sir Richard's Grandson
or
A Soldier's Son

By
ELEANORA H. STOOKE

Author of

"The Hermit's Cave," "Rose Cottage," "A Little Town Mouse,"
"Little Gem," etc.


London
GALL AND INGLIS, 25 PATERNOSTER SQUARE
AND EDINBURGH



List of Illustrations.

"OH!" HE CRIED EXCITEDLY, "WE'RE HAVING SUCH FUN!"

"WELL, DICK," HE SAID, "SO THEY LET YOU COME?"

"LET ME GO!" SAID DICK, HOARSELY.

"'TWAS EXACTLY LIKE LETTING OFF A CANNON."



CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. DICK AND HIS PARENTS

II. BREAKING THE NEWS TO DICK

III. DICK'S FIRST DAY IN ENGLAND

IV. DICK'S GRANDFATHER

V. THE MARTYRED MONK

VI. AN UNANSWERED QUESTION

VII. SIR RICHARD TELLS DICK OF THE SECRET PASSAGE

VIII. A MORNING DRIVE

IX. A SLIGHT ACCIDENT

X. DICK'S COUSINS

XI. A SECRET COMPACT

XII. CONCERNING TWO AFTERNOON CALLS

XIII. THE OLD BLUNDERBUSS

XIV. IN QUEST OF AMMUNITION

XV. LIONEL'S CRUEL SPEECH

XVI. LIONEL'S ACCIDENT

XVII. THE STORM

XVIII. THE MORNING AFTER THE STORM

XIX. ADRIFT

XX. A JOYFUL HOME-COMING



SIR RICHARD'S GRANDSON
OR
A Soldier's Son

CHAPTER I

DICK AND HIS PARENTS

THE intense heat of the Indian day was over, and Captain and Mrs.
Gidley, with their little son, Dick, were seated on the verandah
of their bungalow, enjoying the comparative coolness of the evening.
Captain Gidley was a tall, handsome man, whose spare form and tanned
skin told of many years lived beneath an eastern sun; his wife was a
very pretty woman, and though she had lost the pink roses from her
cheeks which she had brought to India with her as a bride, ten years
previously, she had not grown languid and idle, but was as bright and
cheerful as she had been in her English home, so that her little son,
now eight years old, always had a friend and playmate in the mother,
who loved him, next to her husband, better than all the world.

Dick was a handsome little fellow, though pale and delicate. The
climate was beginning to have bad effects upon his health, and many
were the anxious glances his mother and father cast upon him from
time to time, after which they would meet each other's eyes, and
sigh, realizing that they would not be able to keep him with them
much longer in India.

Dick loved his parents dearly. He thought his mother sweeter, and
prettier, and cleverer than any of the wives of his father's
brother-officers. With the exception of the faithful ayah who had
nursed him with the devotion of her class, his mother had been his
chief companion during the eight short years of his life; he had
never had a thought which he had hidden from her; he had told her all
his childish hopes, and she had shared all his pleasures and joys;
they had played like two children together, and all the while he had
obeyed her slightest wish.

"Dick, always obey your mother!" Captain Gidley had been in the habit
of telling his son, and Dick had complied with the willingness of
perfect confidence and love.

His affection for his father was mingled with deep admiration, for he
considered him the soul of honour and bravery, and had quite made up
his mind that when he should be a man grown he would be a soldier
too.

It was a merry little group on the verandah that evening. Captain and
Mrs. Gidley reclined on deck-chairs, whilst Dick sat on a low stool
at his mother's feet, his hands clasped around his knees,
occasionally joining in his parents' conversation.

"Blair will be sent home as soon as he is well enough," Captain
Gidley remarked presently; "I saw him this afternoon,
sat half-an-hour with him, in fact, and he is decidedly better."

"That is good news," Mrs. Gidley replied, whilst Dick looked up
at his father quickly, his pale face full of lively interest,
for Colonel Blair was the colonel of his father's regiment, and had
had a serious illness from which he was now recovering.

"I am so very glad Colonel Blair is better, because I like him so
much, and Mrs. Blair will be pleased," the little boy said simply.
"Do you mean he is going to England, father? Will Mrs. Blair go too?"

"Yes, my son, most certainly.— What is it, Nanukchund?"

The question was addressed to an Indian servant who had quietly
approached them. He was a brown, lean Hindu, clad in native dress,
who, when he had delivered a message to his master, withdrew to the
far end of the verandah, where he stood in an attitude of unconscious
dignity, his arms crossed upon his breast, his dark eyes fixed upon
the shadowy landscape.

So accustomed were the Gidleys to Nanukchund that they continued
their conversation regardless of his near presence; and the man
himself, standing immovable like a statue, showed no signs of hearing
a word that was being said.

"I was told to-day that the cry of a 'fau' was heard last night
in this neighbourhood," Captain Gidley said by-and-by, "but I do not
know if such was really the case."

"Oh Richard!" cried Mrs. Gidley, glancing nervously around, "don't
say that! You positively terrify me!"

"What is a 'fau?'" Dick asked, for he had never heard the word
before.

"It is a small animal about the size of a cat," Captain Gidley
explained; "the natives declare it is always the forerunner of a
tiger, but I'm sure I don't know about that."

"You forget, Richard," his wife said seriously. "Don't you remember?"

"Remember what, my dear?"

"That before the advent of that tiger—the man-eater you shot before
Dick was born—the natives said they heard a 'fau' some nights
previously?"

"Did they say so? Why, how stupid of me! I had actually forgotten!"

"Oh, father, do tell me all about the man-eater!" Dick cried, with
sparkling eyes.

"You have heard all about it so many times, my son!"

"But I want to hear it again! Do tell it," Dick pleaded in his most
coaxing tone, for, like most children, he was never tired of
listening to the repetition of a fascinating tale.

The captain shook his head, and declared he was too lazy, whereupon
Dick appealed to his mother, and begged her to relate the story.

"Well, dear, I will, if you very much wish it," she responded with an
indulgent smile, "although I thoroughly believe you must know it as
well as I do. It happened, as you are aware, not long after your
father and I were married—just after we had come here to live.
Everything was strange to me, and when I heard that a tiger was
prowling about the district, and had actually killed several
unfortunate natives, you can easily imagine that I was more terrified
than I can express. Your father tried to laugh me out of my fears,
which he thought were needless; but Nanukchund fully sympathised
with me—I think, indeed, he was quite as alarmed as I was, and
during your father's daily absences from home kept a careful watch
around the place, whilst after dark he even persisted in our having
the doors leading on to the verandah shut and bolted, although the
heat was almost unendurable just then."

"I had not had much experience of tigers in those days," Captain
Gidley interposed, "or I should have known that Nanukchund was wise
to insist on caution. I thought it extremely unlikely that 'my lord
stripes' would dare to approach our bungalow, although I knew he had
worked sad havoc in a native village not far distant; and I actually
laughed at Nanukchund when he suggested the advisability of my
keeping a loaded gun by my bedside!"

"But I made you take Nanukchund's advice, Richard," his wife said,
"and, as it happened, it was most fortunate, most providential,
I ought to say, that I did!—Well, Dick, to proceed with the story.
One night, some hours after we had gone to bed, we found the heat so
intolerable in our room that your father suggested opening the door
leading to the verandah for a few minutes. Accordingly he did so, and
then made the discovery that Nanukchund was squatting in a corner of
the verandah. I heard your father ask him what he was doing, and
heard Nanukchund reply that he was on the look-out for the tiger."

"Yes," broke in Captain Gidley, who, although he had declared himself
too lazy to tell the tale, could not resist putting in a few words
now and then, "and he distinctly objected to my leaving the door
open; however, I informed him we could not possibly endure the heat
with it shut, and then he took up his position in the doorway, and
said he would watch whilst we slept; so I returned to your mother,
and told her she need have no fears as to our safety."

"Afterwards," Mrs. Gidley said, as her husband paused, "Nanukchund
explained to us that he fell asleep, and was awakened by the sound
of a snarling growl. He sprang to his feet, immediately on the
defensive, and—it was a moonlight night—saw a huge tiger, only a
few yards from him on the verandah, licking his lips, lashing his
tail, and evidently contemplating the prospect of a meal. In his
sudden fright, Nanukchund uttered a piercing yell, which awoke both
your father and me. Your father jumped out of bed and grasped his gun
at the same instant that the tiger sprang at poor Nanukchund, who,
too, sprang forward, meeting the great beast in its leap. I saw a
flash of steel in the moonlight, and heard an awful snarling cry of
mingled rage and pain as Nanukchund struck the tiger in the chest
with the long-bladed knife he had taken the precaution to have with
him; but, although wounded, the animal was not mortally hurt, and
struck at Nanukchund with one of his forepaws. Then your father, who
had raised his gun and taken careful aim, fired; and in a few minutes
the servants were all on the spot, the tiger lay dead in the doorway,
and Nanukchund, except for some deep scratches on the chest where the
tiger's claws had torn the flesh, was quite unharmed."

"That was a good shot of yours, father!" Dick cried enthusiastically.

"So it was," Captain Gidley replied, with a smile. "The tiger was
shot right through the heart. I never took surer aim; and I can
truthfully say, was never more frightened in my life! There was no
time for reflection; but I was conscious of the full horror of the
situation, and as I caught up my gun and took aim, I just cried out
to God in my heart to help me—and He did!"

There was a brief silence, which was broken by Dick, who said
earnestly,—

"I hope I shall be as good a shot as you, father, when I grow up.
I expect every one was very glad to hear the tiger was killed?"

"Yes, very glad, for the brute had been the terror of the
neighbourhood for several weeks."

"Go and ask Nanukchund if he thinks the 'fau' has really been heard,"
Mrs. Gidley said to Dick, who obeyed immediately, and presently
returned to his parents reassured upon that point, for Nanukchund had
told him the Mem Sahib need not fear. He believed it was only idle
gossip about the "fau" having been heard in the district.

"How should you like to go to England, Dick?" Captain Gidley asked
suddenly.

"Oh, very much, father! It's lovely in England, isn't it?" the boy
asked, looking at his mother, who was fond of talking to him of the
land of her birth.

"Yes, dear," she answered quietly, "one can breathe there. The
regiment will very likely be ordered home next year, will it not,
Richard?" she enquired of her husband.

"Very likely," he replied.

"What fun it will be!" Dick exclaimed gleefully. "Shan't we be busy
beforehand packing up! It's jolly on board ship, isn't it?"

"Yes," Captain Gidley assented, "a sea voyage in a good ship is
rather a pleasant experience. You ought to go to bed now, Dick; it's
past your usual time. Don't dream about the man-eater, though!"

"No," the boy replied with a laugh, "I'll try not to! His skin has
made a splendid rug, hasn't it, father? Mrs. Blair said the other day
it was the finest tiger-skin she had ever seen! Must I really go
to bed? Well, then, good-night!" and he kissed his parents
affectionately. "I must go and say good-night to Nanukchund,"
he added.

They watched him as he exchanged a few words with the Hindoo; then,
nodding gaily to them, he disappeared through the doorway leading
to his bedroom.

"He is in fine spirits to-night," Captain Gidley said gravely, "but I
am not blind to the fact that he daily grows thinner and paler; and
several people have remarked it to me lately. The boy is pining,
Margaret, and I know you see it as plainly as I do. I have been
thinking that we must really send him to England. Mrs. Blair told me
to-day that she would be very pleased to undertake the charge of him
on the voyage. There is no chance of our returning home till next
year, and we run a great risk of losing our boy altogether if we keep
him here much longer."

"Oh, Richard, it is cruelly hard to think of parting from him,"
Mrs. Gidley responded, her usually bright face full of pain, "but we
must think of him and his welfare, of course, and not of our own
feelings at all," she added quickly.

Whilst his parents were discussing a future for him apart from
themselves, Dick was undressing, and having said his prayers,
he slipped into bed. He lay awake thinking of the great tiger his
father had shot with such faultless aim. No wonder Nanukchund was so
devoted to the Captain Sahib who had saved his life! No wonder
every one spoke of his father as a brave and gallant soldier! Captain
Gidley was a pattern for all that was good and true in his little
son's partial eyes; the boy meant to be like him in the years
to come, if God would allow him to grow into a strong man fitted
to be a soldier; but until then, he reflected, he must be content
to learn to be good and obedient, because to obey was a soldier's
first duty in life; and he must ask God to give him a brave, fearless
spirit.

"I am rather small for my age," Dick thought, as he mentally compared
his little fragile form with his father's tall, straight, sinewy
figure, "but I suppose I shall get bigger by-and-by. Mother thinks
when we go to England I shall grow much faster—I hope so, I'm sure.
But even if I don't get very tall I can be a soldier all the same!
Captain Blair's quite short, and yet father says he's a fine
fellow—I suppose that means he's brave, and not afraid
of anything?"

"Who's there?" he cried, as a figure paused in the doorway. "Is it
you, mother! Oh no; it's you, Nanukchund! Come and tell me a story,
do. I'm not a bit sleepy to-night!"

The Hindu obeyed willingly, for the child was a favourite of his.
He had the Mem Sahib's permission to talk to Dick, and accordingly he
commenced to relate some wonderful stories of Indian conjurers and
their marvellous tricks till Dick's eyes grew misty, Nanukchund's
lithe, dark figure became more and more indistinct, and at last faded
altogether as the heavy lids drooped, and a restful sleep overcame
him.



CHAPTER II

BREAKING THE NEWS TO DICK

"YOU have not told him yet."

The speaker was Captain Gidley, who stood on the verandah outside
their bungalow. He spoke in an anxious tone, and glanced at his wife
uneasily. Brave soldier as he was, he felt an abject coward at that
moment at the thought of the parting which must soon take place in
his little family circle, for the next boat which sailed from
Calcutta to England was to bear his only child across the wide waters
to his own and his wife's native land.

"No, I have not told him yet," she replied to her husband's question.
"Dozens of times I have been on the point of speaking to him on the
subject; and then my heart has failed me—and—and—" Mrs. Gidley
broke down completely at this point, and, clinging to her husband's
arm, wept without restraint.

"Listen to me, Margaret," he said tenderly, "you are run down and out
of health yourself, and I really think you must make up your mind
to go to England with the boy!"

"And leave you!" she cried reproachfully, hastily drying her eyes.
"Oh, Richard, that is impossible!"

"Not at all! We should not be parted for long. The regiment's ordered
home next year; and if you will consent to take Dick home—"

"No, no! I cannot think of it! I shall remain with you most
certainly! Did I not tell you ten years ago, when we were first
married, in the words of Ruth of old, 'Whither thou goest I will go!'
And do you think I did not understand then what that might mean some
day? No, our little Dick must go to England alone, and Uncle
Theophilus and Aunt Mary Ann will be good to him for my sake first of
all, and later, when they grow to know him better, for his own.
Dear Richard, don't try to dissuade me from remaining in India with
you. Indeed, I have quite, quite made up my mind, and to-morrow,
all being well, I will tell Dick!"

"The boy ought to be told something of his relations, Margaret!"

"Yes," she agreed; "I think he should be told about your father."

"Not what a hard, unforgiving man he is, and that he has refused the
shelter of his home to his grandson—my son!"

"No, dear, not that, certainly; only that Sir Richard lives near
Holton, and that he is your father."

"There is no need to tell him anything else."

Captain Gidley heaved a sigh of relief. The fact was, his father,
Sir Richard Gidley, had never forgiven him for marrying the orphan
niece of the village doctor, and would have disinherited him if that
had been possible; but his property was strictly heirship, and he
could not will it out of the direct line. However, he had refused
to make his son an additional allowance on his marriage, so that
Captain Gidley and his wife were very poorly off for their position.
When the Indian climate began to tell on the health of their little
son, and they had realised they would not be able to keep him with
them much longer, Captain Gidley had written to Sir Richard asking
him to make a home for the boy, which request had been curtly
refused. Then Mrs. Gidley had written to her aunt and uncle
at Holton, the village on the south coast of England where she had
spent her youth, and in due course received an answer from the former
which ran as follows:—

"No. 8 FORE STREET, HOLTON,"
"May 5, 189—."

"MY DEAR NIECE,—I am writing immediately on receipt
of your letter to tell you how grieved we are to hear
that Dick is so unwell. I fear, my dear Margaret,
that you have no choice but to bravely face the trouble
which presents itself to most English mothers in India—
that God will call upon you to give up your boy to the
charge of those who are strangers to him at an age
when he most wants his mother's care. Of course I agree
with you that your place is with your husband, at any
rate as long as your health will stand the climate."

"I am not surprised that Sir Richard has refused
to take little Dick, though your uncle Theophilus and I
agree that your husband was right in applying to the
child's grandfather first; but since the old man declines
to accept the precious charge, we gladly offer a home
to our dear great-nephew. It is many years since we had
a child in the house— not since you were one yourself,
and we feel quite excited at the prospect of welcoming
your little son! Need I tell you we will do our best
for his welfare and happiness? Send him to us, and,
please God, Holton air will soon make him strong
and well. Your uncle, Theophilus, is in good health;
but I think he finds the night journeys more troublesome
than he used to, though he never complains. Except for
a touch of rheumatism occasionally, I am very well
myself. We have much to be thankful for!"

"You will be able to picture your dear boy in your
old home. I do not think the place has much changed
since you left. God bless you, dear Margaret; may He
keep and console you and your husband in your coming
trial, and may He assist us to take good care of your
little son."

"With much love from your Uncle Theophilus and myself,
and kind regards to Captain Gidley, believe me, my dear
niece, I am, as ever, your affectionate aunt,"

"MARY ANN WARREN."

Mrs. Gidley had no fears anent the welcome Dick would receive from
the writer of this letter, for she well knew from experience how good
and kind was Aunt Mary Ann, who had stood in the place of a mother
to her in her own young days, and who, though she had never married
herself, and had many old-maidish ways, yet understood children, and
could enter into all their sorrows and joys. No people in Holton were
better liked or more respected than Dr. Warren and his sister—
Mrs. Gidley's Uncle Theophilus and Aunt Mary Ann.

"Never speak of sending me home with Dick again," Mrs. Gidley said
earnestly to her husband. "I shall be perfectly satisfied to know he
is with Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus. And do not trouble
because your father refused to have the boy," she added. "Of course,
I would not have said a word against Dick's going to the Manor House
if Sir Richard had wished it; but I cannot help feeling glad matters
are as they are."

At that moment a voice was heard calling, "Mother, mother, is that
you?"

"Dick is awake!" Mrs. Gidley exclaimed hurriedly. "Shall I go in and
tell him now?"

"Yes, do so, my dear," her husband answered. "He must be told sooner
or later, and he ought to have a little while given him to get
accustomed to the idea of separation from us."

Captain Gidley remained where he was whilst his wife passed through
the doorway which led from the verandah into her little boy's room,
her heart appealing to God to show her the best method of breaking
the news she had to impart. She found Dick sitting up in bed; and she
chided him gently as she rearranged his pillows and smoothed the
light counterpane.

"You ought to be asleep, Dick! You will be so tired and languid
to-morrow!"

"It's so hot, mother!" he cried. "I can't get to sleep, and I thought
I heard your voice outside—father's too!"

"Yes, father's too!" By the subdued glimmer of the night-light she
noticed the boy's face was flushed, and his eyes shining feverishly.

She sat down on the edge of the bed whilst he flung his arms around
her neck, and laid his cheek against hers. "Why cannot you sleep,
Dick?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know, mother, but I can't! I've kept on saying my
prayers—'Our Father,' and 'Gentle Jesus'—over and over again;
but the sandy man won't come to my eyes! It's so dreadfully hot!"

"Yes, dear, so it is! Do you know what father and I have been talking
about? Of course you cannot guess, but I am going to tell you! We've
been speaking of sending you to England, to the dear old aunt and
uncle who brought me up. They will be so good to you, Dick; and you
will grow a strong healthy boy, please God! Colonel Blair and his
wife are going home soon—you know he has sick leave—and they have
promised to take charge of you on the voyage. Then, next year, I hope
your father and I may be returning to England, too; and think how
joyful we three shall be to meet again!"

Mrs. Gidley had spoken rapidly, in tones which she had tried
to render cheerful; but her voice faltered as she concluded the
sentence, whilst the clasp of Dick's arms around her neck tightened.
He made no reply for a moment; but at last he burst forth,—

"Mother, mother, you don't mean it, you can't! I am not going
to leave you! You are not going to send me away from you and father?
Oh, mother, say you don't mean that? Oh, I don't want to go to
England! I want to stay here with you, and then next year we can all
go to England together! Oh, please, say you don't mean what you
said!"

"I cannot say that, for it would not be true. We want you to go
to England because if you remain longer in India you will be a
sickly, unhealthy child, and both father and I hope you will grow
into a strong man. How often have I heard you say that when you grow
up you mean to be a soldier? Well, a soldier must not be a weakling,
and a soldier must learn to do his duty! It is your duty now to be
a brave boy, and not to make things harder for father and me than
they are already. We would rather keep you with us; but it is our
plain duty to send you to England, and it is your plain duty to go
willingly. You will find a happy home awaiting you, and God will be
with you, my darling, always," and Mrs. Gidley mingled her tears with
her little son's, whilst he sobbed bitterly.

Presently, however, he began to realise how much he was adding to his
mother's distress, and manfully sought to subdue his grief. He was
facing sorrow for the first time in his life; but though his little
frame was puny at present, he owned a brave heart of his own, and
by-and-by he whispered lovingly,—

"Don't cry any more, mother, and I'll try not to!"

She kissed him, and then, when both were calmer, she began to talk
of her childhood's home in the little English sea-side village. Aunt
Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus were familiar names to his ears;
but presently she spoke to him of his grandfather, of whose existence
he had never heard before.

"Why, mother!" he exclaimed, "do you mean that my father has a
father?"

"Yes," she said, smiling at his way of putting it. "He is a very old
gentleman, and he lives at the Manor House, which is not far from
Holton. His name is Sir Richard Gidley. You were called after your
father and him. I think he must be a very lonely old man now, because
he has only servants to look after him. His wife, your grandmother,
died many years ago, and your aunt—Aunt Arabella—is a widow,
living in London. I do not know if you will see her or not, but you
will be sure to see your grandfather. You must treat him with great
respect, and, if you find him crotchety and cross, don't mind; at the
same time you must not be afraid of him—you need never be afraid
of any one so long as you do nothing to be ashamed of; remember
that!"

"I will remember," the boy replied obediently, "but I hope I shall
not go to England very soon. I don't think I much like the thought
of a grandfather! And a Sir, too! I suppose he is a very grand man
indeed?"

Mrs. Gidley made no direct reply; instead, she spoke of the time when
she and her husband hoped to join their little son in England.

"You'll be a good boy, will you not?" she questioned. "And you'll
obey Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus? I know you will when you
think how they loved your mother when she was a little girl. If you
find Aunt Mary Ann is fussy, you must remember she has a heart
of gold, full of kindness and sympathy for others. And now, my dear
boy, we have talked long enough, and you must go to sleep."

"Yes," Dick replied, "I will try."

After all, he thought, the day of his departure for England had not
arrived yet, and, like most children, he had the happy knack of
dismissing unpleasant thoughts from his mind. Why think of separation
when his mother was still with him? Therefore he suffered her to kiss
him good-night, and, whilst she sat watching him, fell asleep with
his hand in hers. So Captain Gidley found the two when he peeped
anxiously into the room later.

Mrs. Gidley gently relinquished the boy's hand, and, crossing to her
husband's side, slipped her arm through his. Together they approached
the bed, and stood looking on their sleeping child.

"Well?" Captain Gidley whispered.

"I have told him," she replied. "He was terribly upset at the thought
of leaving us at first, but, on the whole, he bore the news better
than I expected. I appealed to his sense of duty, and that told;
he is a true soldier's son! But I did not tell him how soon the
parting will be. Oh, Richard, it is hard!"

"It is," he agreed huskily, "more especially as he is our only
child."

"Let us pray for him," his wife said gently. "Let us ask God to take
care of him when he will be far away from us!"

So husband and wife knelt down by the little bed, and commended their
darling to their Father in Heaven; and though their hearts were still
sore, they arose comforted.

"He is the child of many prayers," Mrs. Gidley said softly, as they
quietly left the room, "and we must be content to place him in God's
hands."

"It is harder for you than for me, Margaret," Captain Gidley replied
tenderly. "Like so many other mothers out here, you have had
to choose between husband and child. I trust we may not be separated
from our dear boy long!"



CHAPTER III

DICK'S FIRST DAY IN ENGLAND

IT was a perfect evening towards the end of June, as Miss Warren sat
at the sitting-room window of her brother's house at Holton,
anxiously looking down the village street. Her busy fingers were
employed in knitting a scarlet sock—one of a pair intended for the
little great-nephew she was expecting that day. It was a favourite
boast of Miss Warren's that she never allowed herself to be driven
by time; so, when she had heard that Dick Gidley was really coming,
she had immediately commenced to make preparations for his arrival,
and had begun to knit socks for him at once.

"I do hope they'll fit," she thought. "I expect they will, for he's
not likely to be bigger than most boys of his age. Poor little
fellow! How he must have felt the parting with his parents!—and I
know it must almost have broken his mother's heart! She was always
of such an affectionate disposition!—Half-past five, I declare!
I hope nothing has gone wrong!—Dear me; how foolish I am! The
trains on this line are often late, and Theophilus never drives
fast!"

Miss Warren was a little woman with a brisk manner, and a round face
blooming with health and good-humour. Her trim figure was neatly
attired in a grey alpaca gown, fastened at the throat with a big
brooch which contained two twists of hair—her mother's and
father's—whilst, depending from her neck, she wore a fine long gold
chain, to which was attached the watch in her waist-belt.

Presently she laid down her knitting, and, rising from her seat,
ventured to put her head outside the open window to get a better view
of the street. No one was within sight, and not a sound was to be
heard but the gentle murmur of the sea.

"Every one is having tea, I suppose," Miss Warren reflected. "Dear
me; I hope they will come soon! I have not felt so excited for
years!"

The preceding day her brother had gone to London to meet little Dick;
and this morning she had received a telegram from him, saying the
vessel had arrived, and she might expect him and her nephew by the
train reaching Holton about five o'clock in the afternoon. She had
sent the doctor's gig to the station, had seen that a substantial
meal was set in readiness for the travellers, and now she was
literally on the tiptoe of expectation, her ears strained in hopes
of catching the sounds of carriage-wheels, her bright dark eyes,
which had smiled on the world for fifty years, and were no dimmer
on that account, peering down the narrow village street.

At last she pulled her head in quickly, and, hastening to the front
door, opened it wide and took her position on the doorstep just as
the doctor's gig appeared in sight. Her brother was driving, and by
his side was a little, pale-faced, brown-eyed boy, to whom he was
evidently pointing out certain objects of interest, as Firefly,
the stout cob, proceeded leisurely homewards.

"How slowly Theophilus drives!" Miss Warren exclaimed. "And that poor
child must be so weary, too! How white he looks! Oh, Theophilus, here
you are at last!"

The gig drew up, and the doctor proceeded to alight. He gave the
reins to the groom—who had walked from the station, and had covered
the ground as fast as Firefly on account of the road being all
uphill—and then lifted down the little stranger.

"Welcome to your new home," he said, as he set Dick on the doorstep.
"This lady, my boy, is your Aunt Mary Ann!"

"Who is more glad than she can express to see you!" Miss Warren cried
heartily, as she kissed Dick and led him into the house. "Come into
the sitting-room and let me look at you. Dear me, what white cheeks!
Never mind, you'll soon grow rosy at Holton! Ah, I see a look of your
dear mother in your face!"

"Do you?" Dick said, his countenance glowing with pleasure. He had
been feeling very low-spirited, for in saying good-bye to Colonel and
Mrs. Blair, under whose kind care he had travelled to England, it had
seemed as though he was severing the last tie between the old life
and the new; but he could not help brightening at being told he was
like his mother.

"Yes," Miss Warren nodded, "especially when you smile. I shall write
and tell her so. Oh, my dear boy, I'm so glad to see you! Your uncle
and I are pleased and proud that you are going to make your home
with us! To-morrow you and I will have a nice long chat together,
and I will tell you about your mother when she was a little girl.
You will like to hear that, I am sure!"

"Oh, yes," Dick answered earnestly, "indeed I shall!"

"I expect you are very tired, are you not, and hungry, too?"

"A little tired," he acknowledged, "but not very hungry."

"Oh, you may not think so, but I am sure you must be! Come with me,
and I will show you your own room; it is close to mine."

Dick followed Miss Warren upstairs into a small bedroom, which,
she informed him, had once been his mother's. He was pleased to hear
that, and looked at his companion with grateful eyes, whereupon she
impulsively kissed him again, for his mother's sake this time,
she said.

Drawing him to the window, which looked upon an old-fashioned garden
where vegetables and flowers both grew in profusion, she pointed out
what a fine view was to be seen. The country Was very beautiful, and
Dick uttered an exclamation of admiration as his eyes rested on green
meadows, woods in the luxuriant leafage of June, and a glimpse of
blue sea on which several small vessels were sailing.

"What brown sails those ships have," he remarked. "I never saw sails
that colour before!"

"They are trawlers—fishing-boats. The sails are always that rich,
red-brown shade. You are fond of the sea, my dear?"

"Very fond of it, Aunt Mary Ann. I am glad Holton is by the sea."

"I hope you will be very happy here, Dick; we shall try to make you
so. Ah, here's your uncle! Well, Theophilus?"

"Dick's luggage will be brought from the station on a hand truck,
by-and-by," the doctor remarked. "You can come to my room and use my
brush and comb, if you like, Dick."

Dick followed his uncle, whilst Miss Warren went downstairs and rang
for tea. Presently the others joined her, and they sat down at the
table.

Dick noticed that Aunt Mary Ann did most of the talking, whilst Uncle
Theophilus sat by and listened, only now and then putting in a word.

Uncle Theophilus was a big man, as slow in manner as in speech. He
was some years his sister's senior, and looked more than his age.
There was something remarkably attractive in his grave, clean-shaven
face, and the smile which occasionally lit up his grey eyes was
peculiarly gentle and sweet. When the little boy had slipped his
fingers into the doctor's large hand that morning, he had felt
instinctively, with youth's quick perception, that he had found a
friend; and during the journey from London to Holton, though they had
not talked much, Dick had been strengthened in his first impression
that Uncle Theophilus was a person to be trusted.

Miss Warren was much distressed to find that Dick had a very poor
appetite; and was loud in her exclamations of disappointment because
he appeared incapable of appreciating the many good things before
him.

"A little more ham, Dick?—No! Then have some cake?—No! Some bread
and butter?—No, again! Why, you have not had enough to satisfy a
robin!" she exclaimed, when Dick politely but firmly declined to eat
any more. "Theophilus, you must give him a tonic! The poor child has
no appetite whatever!"

"Fresh English breezes will be the best tonics for him, I expect,"
the doctor replied quietly; "however, we shall see! I shall prescribe
that he keeps out-of-doors as much as possible!"

"But you'll give him some medicine, won't you?" Miss Warren asked
anxiously.

"I think not. He shall have some drives with me. How would you like
that, Dick?"

"Oh, that would be splendid!" the little boy cried, his cheeks
flushing with pleasure. "What is your horse called, Uncle
Theophilus?"

"Firefly."

"The laziest animal in the world!" Miss Warren declared, shaking her
head at her brother. "You know it's true, Theophilus, and it's all
your fault! You indulge him, and let him go his own pace. He's
getting so fat that soon he'll be a laughing-stock for the whole
country-side!"

The doctor smiled good-temperedly, and made no reply, doubtless
because he knew his sister was right. After tea he went out to see a
patient, and Dick was left to the tender mercies of Aunt Mary Ann.
Then his luggage arrived and was duly unpacked. His mother had sent
several presents to her aunt and uncle, and Miss Warren was simply
delighted.

"How kind of dear Margaret!" she said. "These sofa cushions are
lovely—worked in silver and gold thread by the natives, I suppose.
Come into the drawing-room, Dick, and let us see how the cushions
will look on the sofa."

The drawing-room was not nearly such a cheerful apartment as the
sitting-room, although it looked out into the pretty, old-fashioned
garden. The furniture was heavy, and all the chairs were draped with
brown Holland coverings; a piano occupied one corner of the room, but
it was seldom touched, now-a-days, except, as Dick afterwards found
out, on Sundays, when his aunt was sometimes tempted to play a chant
or a hymn-tune.

Miss Warren arranged the cushions on the sofa, and seemed satisfied
with the effect; then, seeing how tired Dick was looking, she
suggested that he should go to bed; so he accordingly went upstairs
to his own room. She came to visit him after he was in bed, and asked
him if he had said his prayers; being satisfied on that point,
she fussed around the apartment, seeing everything was in order, and
then kissed him affectionately, bidding him soon sleep like a good
boy. Dick heard her go downstairs ere he buried his head beneath the
clothes and sobbed as though his heart would break. He was so
dreadfully lonely, poor little boy; but he would not for anything
have had Aunt Mary know that he was crying. She was as kind as his
mother had said she would be; but still, she was a stranger to him.
On board ship he had had Colonel and Mrs. Blair, whom he had known
all his short life, to console him, and he had felt saying good-bye
to them a great deal. He had not liked to tell Aunt Mary Ann how sore
his heart was, nor how miserable he felt.

He went over again the parting with his parents on that memorable day
weeks before, when they had been obliged to leave him on the
homeward-bound vessel. How he had clung to them weeping; how pale his
father had looked, and how his mother had scarcely been able to tear
herself away from his embrace. He shut his eyes, and fancied he heard
their voices; his father's saying, "Good-bye, Dick; be a brave boy!
God bless you, my little son!" and his mother's, "Don't forget us,
Dick!" As though it was possible that he could ever forget them!
He was too young to know that that involuntary cry had come from her
aching heart, prompted by the fear which haunted her that Sir Richard
Gidley might try to win her son's affection from her—a fear she had
never breathed to her husband, or to any one but God.

Dick cried till he felt quite exhausted, and then lay perfectly
still, listening to the sounds which reached his room—his aunt's
voice downstairs, the footsteps of passers-by in the street outside.
By-and-by he heard the front door open and shut; and presently, slow,
deliberate steps mounted the stairs; the door opened quietly, and the
doctor entered, bearing a lighted candle in his hand, which he placed
on the dressing-table.

"I have come to say good-night to you, Dick," he said in his deep
pleasant voice, as he seated himself in a chair by the bedside. Then
he took one of the child's hot hands in his, and breathed— "A-ah!"

Dick was ashamed to be caught crying; but Uncle Theophilus tactfully
refrained from remarking upon his very evident distress; instead,
he spoke of the drive he meant to take on the morrow, and asked Dick
if he would bear him company.

"Oh, yes, please!" Dick answered. "How kind of you to think of taking
me!"

"We must be friends, you and I," the doctor remarked cordially,
"for we shall see a great deal of each other, you know!"

"Oh, yes!" Dick agreed. His breath was still coming in little gasping
sobs. "I am very sorry," he added apologetically, "I—I can't help
it—and you and Aunt Mary Ann are so kind, too!"

"Never mind, my boy, I think I understand. Life is very hard
sometimes, Dick; I've found that myself; but a stout heart and a firm
trust in One above help us along many a rugged path. Your mother has
taught you that?"

"Yes, Uncle Theophilus. I'm afraid I'm a big coward; but I do want
to be brave. I should like to be a soldier, when I'm a man, like
father."

"You can be a soldier now, if you like—a soldier of the Lord Jesus
Christ. You can fight on His side for truth against falsehood, for
love against hate, for holiness against sin. You need not wait until
you are a man to be a soldier of Christ; the smallest, feeblest child
may fight under His banner, and win a crown of life!"

"Oh, that's exactly what mother says!"

"Ah!" the doctor's grave face broke into a smile. "You must always
remember your mother's teaching, Dick. I think if she was here now,
she would say you ought to go to sleep—so I'll say good-night."

"Good-night," Dick responded. The sound of tears was gone from his
voice, and he spoke quite cheerfully. "It was awfully good of you
to think of coming to see me, Uncle Theophilus; and I'm so glad you
did, though I didn't want you to see what a baby I am."

"Oh, I'm not going to tell any one, Dick, rest assured upon that
point. We all feel life is a little too much for us sometimes, and
then the fighting spirit rises within us, and we determine, by God's
help, to overcome our sorrows and difficulties. I suppose that was
the case with you to-night, moping here by yourself. I hope I have
succeeded in raising your British pluck?"

"Yes; I think you have," Dick replied, smiling. "I'm not going to
mope any longer; I'm going to sleep, instead." And he was as good
as his word.



CHAPTER IV

DICK'S GRANDFATHER

THE following morning Dick awoke refreshed and in better spirits.
The sun was shining brightly into his bedroom window, and the
sparrows were twittering beneath the eaves of the roof, where many
feathered families dwelt; whilst a cock was crowing in a farm-yard
not far distant, in answer to a smaller, shriller voice which seemed
close by, and which, Dick afterwards learnt, belonged to a bantam,
a pet of Miss Warren's.

Dick dressed quickly, and, having said his prayers, went downstairs
into the hall. There his attention was caught by a tall, eight-day
clock in a black oak case. It had a brass face, on the top of which
was the model of a ship with sails unfurled, rocking automatically
at every tick of the pendulum. Dick was quite fascinated by this
novel sight, and stood gazing at it with round, astonished eyes until
Miss Warren came upon the scene.

"Oh, my dear boy!" she cried, greeting him with a hearty kiss.
"To think of your getting up without being called! Theophilus said
I was to let you sleep on, and not disturb you! How do you feel this
morning? Better?"

"I am quite well, thank you, Aunt Mary Ann. I was all right last
night, only rather tired. What a beautiful clock! Does that ship
always rock?"

"Yes, certainly; every time the clock ticks the ship rocks; it is
sailing towards eternity, and, though it seems to make no progress,
it is journeying on all the same. That's the way with time! Your dear
mother used to sit on the stairs, when she was a tiny child, and
watch the old ship sailing; it was like a companion to her."

Dick was deeply interested. He had never seen such a wonderful clock
before, and he wondered his mother had not thought of telling him
about it. Presently the doctor came down, and looked pleased to see
the little boy evidently so much brighter. Then they went into the
sitting-room, and breakfast being in readiness for them, took their
places at the table.

"Theophilus, do you think Sir Richard has heard of Dick's arrival
yet?" Miss Warren inquired, as she passed her brother his cup
of coffee.

"I should say not," the doctor replied, "since Dick has only been
a few hours in Holton. Sir Richard will no doubt see by to-day's
newspaper that the vessel arrived in safety."

"Oh, and do you think he will call to-day?" Miss Warren asked
eagerly, her face full of excitement, her bright eyes fixed on her
brother's face.

"Impossible to say. He may, or he may wait to hear from us that Dick
is here. However, I shall write a note to him after breakfast, and
send it to the Manor House at once. I do not know how he will act;
possibly he may call."

"Of course, that would be the right course for him to take," Miss
Warren remarked. "Are you looking forward to seeing your grandfather,
Dick?"

"Yes, Aunt Mary Ann," the little boy answered. He was very curious
to meet this relation of his, of whose existence he had not been
aware till lately. He had no means of guessing why his parents had
not spoken to him of Sir Richard Gidley until they had been about
to send him to England. He knew they must have had a reason for not
having done so, and he felt decidedly puzzled.

"I don't know much about him," he proceeded, "except that he is my
grandfather. Mother says he is a lonely old man, and that I must not
be afraid of him. Why should I be afraid of him?" he asked, looking
questioningly from one face to the other.

"There is no reason, Dick," Dr. Warren answered. "Sir Richard is
often gruff in his manner, and speaks out sharply. No doubt your
mother remembered that. She never knew him well herself, because your
parents went abroad directly they were married. I daresay Sir Richard
will ask you to go to the Manor House, and you will like that, will
you not?"

"I don't know, Uncle Theophilus. Is it a very grand place?"

"Not now; for Sir Richard does not keep it up as he used. Still,
it is a fine old house with many objects of interest about it.
Several of the rooms are shut-up, I believe, as your grandfather
employs only a few women-servants now-a-days. Are you fond of
pictures? Yes? Well there's a picture-gallery at the Manor House
where you will find likenesses of many generations of your
ancestors."

"What are ancestors?" Dick asked, hoping he was not showing great
ignorance by the question.

"Those from whom you are descended—those of your race who lived
before you. For instance, your grandfather is your ancestor. Do you
understand?"

"I think so," Dick answered thoughtfully.

After breakfast the doctor devoted an hour to the patients who came
to his surgery for advice. When the last had gone, he was ready
to start on his morning round; and Dick, much to his delight, found
he was to accompany him as had been promised.

As they drove down the narrow street the villagers came to their
doors to gaze with curious, interested eyes at the stranger.

"Why, Uncle Theophilus, you know every one! Dick exclaimed as the
doctor nodded to one person, then to another.

"You see, Dick, I have lived most of my life in this place, and I
know every man, woman, and child for miles around. That's Cripps,
the grocer, standing there in the doorway of his shop. That's the
post-office, that little house with the porch all covered with
honeysuckle; and there's Miss Tidy, the post-mistress, peeping out
over the wire blind."

"Miss Tidy," Dick echoed, laughing. "What a funny name, and what
a funny face!"

He spoke truly, for Miss Tidy was the possessor of a wide mouth,
a tip-tilted nose, and a pair of round, green eyes that took notice
of every one and everything. The post-mistress had not a great deal
of work at Holton, so, often, when she found time hanging heavy on
her hands, she employed herself with business concerning her
neighbours.

The doctor required some stamps, so he drew up in front of the
post-office; whereupon Miss Tidy came running out.

"Don't get down, I beg, Dr. Warren!" she cried, in a high, somewhat
shrill voice. "What can I get for you? Stamps? Postal orders?
A lovely day, is it not? Is this young gentleman the one you've been
expecting from India?"

"Yes," Dr. Warren answered briefly, whilst Dick flushed as the sharp
green eyes of the post-mistress scanned his face. "I will trouble you
for a shilling's worth of penny stamps, if you please."

Miss Tidy retired, and presently returned with the stamps, which she
handed to the doctor.

"I don't think he's much like his mother," she said, as she stood
with her head on one side regarding Dick. "He's a Gidley, every inch
of him, as far as appearance goes. Don't you think so, Dr. Warren?"

But the doctor would not commit himself to an opinion on the point,
and merely nodded as he drove off.

"Isn't she rather an inquisitive sort of person, Uncle Theophilus?"
Dick questioned.

"She is," his uncle admitted dryly; "but she means well," he added,
after a moment's reflection, "and that's saying a good deal in her
favour."

How beautiful everything was! How fresh and invigorating was the salt
sea air! The hedges were full of wild roses, some delicate pink
in hue, others china white, the latter endowed with the sweeter
perfume, as though the Great Creator had given compensation to the
pale flowers for their lack of colour by adding to their scent.
It certainly was a perfect summer's day! Occasionally, as they drove
along, Dick caught glimpses of the peaceful sea, which reflected the
intense blue of the sky; then the tears rushed to his eyes as he
thought how many, many hundreds of miles of water stretched between
him and the mother and father he loved so well. But he fought with
the emotion which threatened to overcome him; so that Uncle
Theophilus never guessed how often his little nephew was nearly
reduced to tears.

"I have enjoyed the drive so much," Dick said gratefully, as Firefly
turned homewards; "thank you for letting me come with you, Uncle
Theophilus."

"I shall be glad of your company another day," was the doctor's
reply, "and by-and-by I will teach you to drive."

Arrived at home, Dick was astonished to find a carriage, drawn by
a pair of sleek grey horses, in front of the doctor's house.
He looked at his uncle for an explanation.

"I think your grandfather must be here," Dr. Warren said quietly.
"Come with me, Dick. I suppose your aunt is entertaining Sir Richard
in the drawing-room."

Thither they accordingly repaired, and found Miss Warren in
conversation with a tall, fierce-looking old gentleman who was seated
in an easy-chair.

"Ah, Sir Richard, I thought you would soon be here to see your
grandson," the doctor remarked easily. "Dick, my boy, this is Sir
Richard Gidley, your grandfather."

Dick advanced towards the old gentleman till he stood directly
in front of him; then he looked him full in the face in silence for a
moment, noticing how stern was his expression, and how his white
moustache bristled at the ends.

"How do you do, grandfather?" said Dick politely after this brief
scrutiny of the other's countenance. "I hope you are very well."

He held out his hand, which his grandfather took in silence. The old
man surveyed the boy critically from the top of his head to the soles
of his feet, then he exclaimed, "Humph!"

Miss Warren, who appeared nervous and ill at ease, flushed a trifle
angrily, and was about to speak, when her brother anticipated her
by saying,—

"Dick has been in poor health, as I believe you have been informed,
Sir Richard, therefore you must not be disappointed if he appears
delicate. He will be a different boy in a few month's time, you will
see."

"Did I say I was disappointed?" snapped Sir Richard, evidently
displeased that his face had betrayed his thought.

"No; but you looked it," the doctor retorted bluntly.

"You are eight years old, I think," Sir Richard said, turning his
attention to his grandson again. "You don't look it. Your father was
inches taller at your age."

"Oh, I shall grow away now I'm in England," Dick replied hopefully.
"Father said he expected I should be grown out of his knowledge
before we meet again." A slight mist crossed the brown eyes for a
minute but was winked away. "When I came into the room just now
I thought I had seen you before," he continued; "but of course
I never had. I know what made me think so, though. I see it now."

"What do you see?" asked Sir Richard curiously.

"Why, that you're like father! Your eyes are like his, only different
in the way they look; and you speak like him, too—only not quite
the same!"

"That's not a very lucid explanation," Sir Richard said, with an
involuntary smile; "but it would be strange if there was no likeness
between me and my son," he added, a pleased look creeping over his
stern face.

"Ah, now you're more like him!" Dick cried, his pale countenance
lighting up with pleasure. "I'm so glad you are! I shall like you
so much better—"

"You are very fond of your father?" Sir Richard interrupted
questioningly.

"Yes," Dick answered, "indeed I am! When I grow up I mean to be
a brave soldier like he is!"

"You would not be a Gidley if you were a coward!" the old man
declared. "You come from a fighting race!"

The look of disappointment on his face had given way to one
of interest. He turned to the doctor, and asked if it was intended
the boy should go to school. "Not for the present," Dr. Warren
answered, shaking his head; "his parents would rather have his health
set up first, and I think they are wise. There is nothing really
amiss with him; he is merely suffering from the effects of the Indian
climate."

Sir Richard nodded, and appeared relieved. He glanced from the sister
to the brother, and after a moment's hesitation, said,—

"I suppose you will neither of you raise any objection to the boy's
coming to see me? When I declined the responsibility of looking after
him, I of course did not mean he was not to come near me. Will you
allow him to spend to-morrow at the Manor House?"

"Certainly, Sir Richard," Dr. Warren agreed. "You would like to go,
would you not, Dick?"

"Ye-s," Dick replied doubtfully. "Didn't you want to look after me,
grandfather? Well, I'm glad, because I think I'd rather be here with
Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus!"

There was an awkward pause after this very frank avowal, and Sir
Richard grew almost purple with indignation. At length he exclaimed
caustically,—

"It's evident you have not been brought up to have a very good
opinion of your grandfather!"

"Are you angry?" Dick enquired wonderingly. "I never heard of you
at all until the night mother said I was to go to England, then she
told me about you!"

"And what she told you did not make you long to see me, I suppose?"
sneered Sir Richard.

"She only said that you were a very lonely old man, and that I must
treat you with great respect, and not be afraid of you," Dick said,
looking more and more surprised as he noticed his grandfather's
anger, which appeared to him quite unwarranted. "I have treated you
with respect, haven't I?" he asked anxiously; "And I'm not afraid
of you!" he added as an after-thought.

Sir Richard looked searchingly at the child's open countenance; then
the anger slowly died from his face, and he smiled. There was
something very straightforward about this grandson of his which
he could not but admire; and it amused him that the boy had frankly
said he felt no fear of him. A great many people were afraid of Sir
Richard Gidley—afraid of rousing his temper, which was harsh and
unforgiving, and afraid of the cruel, cutting tongue which was his
favourite weapon, and which he never scrupled to use to his own
advantage. His household trembled before him; his daughter, when she
visited him, never dared cross his will in any way; the villagers
stood in awe of him; but this pale-faced, delicate-looking boy stood
boldly before him, and declared he was not afraid of him!

"I am not angry," he said, "or I should not want you to come and see
me to-morrow. I shall send the carriage for you at twelve o'clock,
and it will take you back in the evening. Will that arrangement suit
you?" he enquired, turning to Miss Warren.

She said it would; and after that he took his departure, the doctor
seeing him into his carriage. Dick was glad neither his aunt nor his
uncle asked him what he thought of his grandfather, for his private
opinion was that Sir Richard Gidley was a most disagreeable old man.



CHAPTER V

THE MARTYRED MONK

THE Manor House had been the home of the Gidley family for several
hundreds of years. It was situated in a sheltered coombe about
half a mile from Holton village, and was surrounded by gardens,
beyond which were extensive grounds, once part of an extensive
deer park. Nowadays no graceful, soft-eyed deer were to be seen
beneath the fine beeches and ancient oaks; but the place was simply
infested with rabbits—they ate up everything, and even came into
the gardens and destroyed the crops there.

The house itself was a grey Elizabethan mansion, and had been built
in the shape of the letter E in honour of the great Tudor queen.
It stood on the site of an older building, which had been a religious
house before Henry the Eighth had laid it in ruins, when he had
presented the property to one of his favourite courtiers, Sir Richard
Gidley. It was that Sir Richard who, in his old age, had built the
present house. His likeness was to be seen in the picture-gallery
which Dr. Warren had mentioned, represented in court dress, puffed,
and padded, and bejewelled.

Little Dick thought the Manor House a very grand place indeed, as he
stepped from his grandfather's carriage on the day following his
first meeting with Sir Richard, and stood looking up at the old grey
building. The great oaken door was opened by an elderly woman in a
plain black gown, who had evidently been on the look-out for his
arrival; for she flung her arms around him, and kissed him ere she
led him into the house. He was naturally surprised at the warmth of
her greeting, and, glancing wonderingly up into her face, saw that
her eyes were smiling through a mist of tears.

"You don't know me," she said, in answer to his inquiring look, "but
I couldn't help kissing you for your father's sake. I was his nurse
when he was a little lad, and now I'm the housekeeper. Did you never
hear of Susan Morecombe?"

"Are you Susan Morecombe?" he asked.

He did not like to say he had never heard of her before, for she
evidently thought he knew all about her. He wondered afresh why he
had not been told anything about his father's home. Of course his
father had lived in this grand house once, although he could hardly
realise the fact.

"Yes; I'm Susan Morecombe," she replied. "But come; Sir Richard
expects you, and he must not be kept waiting!" and she led the way
to the dining-room, where she left Dick with his grandfather.

If the old man was glad to see his grandson he did not say so. He was
seated in a high-backed armchair near the open window, with the daily
newspaper in his hand.

"Well, Dick," he said, as the little boy came to his side; "so they
let you come!"

"They?" Dick repeated interrogatively, as he shook hands with his
grandfather.

"Dr. and Miss Warren, I mean."

"Oh, yes! They promised I should come. Uncle Theophilus said he
thought father would wish it."

"Then you had no desire to come yourself?"

"I—I—well, no!" Dick acknowledged with some embarrassment.
"I hope it is not rude to say that! I wish you had not asked me."

"You are quite right to speak out. I hate a liar; and one who
equivocates is a liar as much as one who tells a deliberate
falsehood. If you speak the truth we shall get on."

"I always speak the truth," Dick said, growing red, for his
grandfather was regarding him with great severity. "I am glad now
I did come," he continued; "I had no idea you lived in such a fine
house, grandfather! What a large room this is—quite the biggest
I was ever in! It's rather too big for one person, isn't it?"

"Would you like to go all over the house?" Sir Richard asked,
ignoring the other's question. "If so, you shall, later on. Sit down,
now; I want to talk to you."

[Illustration: "Well, Dick," he said, "so they let you come!"]

Dick obeyed, and patiently answered all the questions his grandfather
put to him—mostly about his father, and his life in India.

"And so there is a chance of the regiment being ordered home next
year, if all's well," Sir Richard remarked presently. "It's about
time, I should say. How was it your mother did not bring you home?"
he asked abruptly.

"She could not leave father," Dick explained; "and besides, it costs
a lot of money to travel from India to England, and father hasn't
much money, you know!"

"Has he not?"

"I should have thought you would have known that!" Dick exclaimed,
regarding his grandfather with evident surprise.

"I have not known much about my son of late years," the old man said
bitterly; "he offended me, and I have never forgiven him!"

"I don't believe father did anything wrong!" Dick declared, looking
greatly distressed, for he thought whatever his father did must be
right.

"You were not asked your opinion, young gentleman!" Sir Richard told
him sarcastically.

Dick felt hurt and snubbed. Indignant tears rose to his eyes, and his
lips quivered, but he did not cry. Sir Richard watched the boy
in silence, secretly admiring his self-command; presently he noticed
that Dick, in his turn, was watching him.

"What are you thinking of?" he asked, struck by the thoughtful look
which had crept into his grandson's eyes.

"I-I would rather not say!" was the evasive reply.

"Why not?" the old man demanded.

"If I told you, you might not like it. You might be offended. You are
so—so touchy!"

Sir Richard laughed, not unkindly. The boy's frankness was not
unpleasing to him.

"Come, speak out," he said imperatively, "tell me what weighty
thought was making you look so serious."

"I was wondering," said Dick with exceeding gravity, "if you ever say
'Our Father'!"

"Do you mean the Lord's prayer? Certainly, every day of my life.
Why?"

"You said just now that you had never forgiven father—for
something. Mother says if we don't forgive we can't hope God will
forgive us, and it's a mockery to say 'Our Father.' That's what
I meant!"

Sir Richard grew purple. He was about to burst into a storm of
passion, when he remembered that he had forced the child to speak his
thoughts, and has anger suddenly cooled.

"Instead of educating you for a soldier, your parents should bring
you to a preacher," he sneered. "There was a Gidley once who was a
preacher, and because he could not mind his own business he was burnt
at the stake!"

"Oh, do please tell me about him!" Dick cried eagerly. "I should so
much like to hear how it happened!"

Sir Richard was fond of talking of his own family, so it pleased him
to tell the tale. He accordingly commenced:—

"In the reign of Queen Mary—Bloody Mary as the history-books call
her—there was a certain Paul Gidley, a monk, a younger son of the
Sir Richard Gidley who built this house. He went abroad to Holland,
and there he fell in with some monks like himself, who had come to
the conclusion that God meant the Bible for every one to read—not
only for priests and people of education. When this Paul Gidley
returned to England, he went about preaching, and saying that the
Church of Rome was full of faults, and that Jesus Christ was the only
one to look to for salvation."

"He was quite right, wasn't he?" Dick said earnestly. "I've heard
about men like him before—mother told me about them. Some of them
were martyrs," he concluded, a look of awe crossing his face.

"Paul Gidley was one," Sir Richard proceeded; "he offended the heads
of the Roman Catholic Church in England, and he was thrown into
prison so that he should have time to consider the advisability
of denying the Protestant faith. The queen was reluctant to sign his
death-warrant, for the Gidleys had ever been faithful and loyal
subjects; but, as Paul Gidley declined to change his views, she was
obliged to consent to his death; and so he perished at the
stake—was burnt to death after nearly an hour's agony borne with
great fortitude. The Gidleys were never cowards!" Sir Richard's eyes
glowed with a bright light as he spoke, whilst little Dick laid
a hand on his knee, and looked up at him solemnly.

"That was before this house was built," the old man continued. "The
Gidleys lived then about a mile from here. After the death of young
Paul Gidley, Sir Richard absented himself from court, and lived in
retirement till Queen Mary died. Then, when Elizabeth came to the
crown, he commenced to build this house on the site of the old
monastery; but before it was completed, he died. The son finished
the work the father had commenced, and, with his family and personal
belongings, which included some handsome plate, and the paintings
of his parents and martyred brother, came here to live. The old home
of the Gidleys is now a farm-house; I daresay you will see it some
day. I will show you the picture-gallery by-and by; but now it is my
lunch-time. Are you hungry?"

"I think I am," the little boy admitted, glancing at the table, which
was laid for two. Sir Richard told him to ring the bell, and a trim
parlour-maid appeared in answer to its summons to wait upon them.

Sir Richard took his seat at the top of the table with his grandson
at his right hand. During the meal he watched the boy furtively, and
was pleased with his behaviour. Dick's manners were easy and refined;
and although he had plenty to say, and asked dozens of questions,
he was not too self-confident.

"He has been carefully brought up," the old man said to himself; "his
father's doing, I suppose." Aloud he said, "I suppose your father had
you with him a good deal in India, eh?"

"Oh, no," Dick answered promptly; "father was always so busy!
Sometimes mother and I were alone together all day! That's why I miss
mother more than father, though I love them both alike! And I can't
help thinking if I feel so dreadfully bad about it, that she must be
feeling the same!"

Sir Richard grunted, but he made no reply.

"I'm expecting a letter from mother," Dick went on, a happy,
expectant smile brightening his pale face. "She said I should hear
from her very soon; and when I write to her I shall have such lots
of things to tell her! Oh, dear; I wish I could write better!
You can't think how badly I write!"

"Ah!" the old man exclaimed, smiling indulgently. "The Gidleys have
been oftener soldiers than scholars! Your father could never bear
letter-writing."

"Mother generally writes his letters, except his duty letters,
you know."

After luncheon Dick reminded his grandfather of his promise to show
him the picture-gallery.

Accordingly, Sir Richard slowly led the way up the broad oaken
staircase, whilst Dick followed. Down a dark corridor they went till
they reached a heavy door—like a church door, the little boy
thought. Sir Richard lifted the ponderous latch, and Dick followed
him into a large long room, with windows of painted glass through
which the summer sun shone in mellow tones. A feeling of awe crept
over Dick as he glanced at the walls panelled in oak and beautifully
carved, against which, in heavy frames, hung the likenesses of his
ancestors.

His attention was first called to Sir Richard Gidley, bluff
King Hal's favourite, a fine-looking gentleman, brown-eyed,
brown-haired, with a merry smile on his lips.

"That likeness was painted before his son was murdered," Sir Richard
said, "when he was young and gay. See, Dick, there is he who
entertained King Charles the First—that handsome man with the
love-locks; and there is Dame Margery, his wife—a lady-in-waiting
she was, before she married, to Queen Henrietta Maria. And there
is Sir Thomas Gidley, whom William, Prince of Orange, disliked and
mistrusted."

"How was that?" Dick asked.

"Because the Gidleys always stood by the Stuarts," Sir Richard
answered.

"Oh, I know all about the Stuarts!" Dick cried; "but I never knew
my ancestors had anything to do with them! How strange it seems!"

"You should be proud of your ancestors," the old man said, delighted
with the keen interest the boy was evincing in the information he was
giving him.

"Were they very good people?" Dick inquired.

"Not all; but some of them were. They were all brave, though; many of
them were soldiers like your father."

"I have not seen the likeness of the martyr, grandfather!"

"No." Sir Richard drew aside a curtain which hung in front of a large
picture. "This is Paul Gidley, the martyr," he said gravely.

Dick looked, and saw an almost life-size representation of a monk.
The slight form was attired in the conventional monastic garb of the
period; but it was the face of the martyr which fascinated
Dick—a young face with dark-brown eyes, and lips firm but tender,
a broad brow, and clipped, dark hair.

"You see he wore a tonsure," Sir Richard said; "I mean that round,
bare patch on his head which shows he was dedicated to the Roman
Catholic ministry. He was a monk, and he lost his life because
he saw the errors of his church, and preached against them."

"I think he looks good," Dick said gravely; "and I am sure he was
brave! What are those figures at the bottom of the picture,
grandfather?"

"Can you not make them out?"

"Yes— 1 5 5 5."

"That is the date of the year during which Paul Gidley suffered
martyrdom."

Sir Richard glanced from the pictured face of the young monk to the
earnest countenance of the child, and was it only his fancy, or did
he really see a likeness between them? Both had the same brown eyes,
both the same broad, serious brow; and the old man wondered if his
grandson possessed the brave spirit of Paul Gidley too.

"I am sure he was good," Dick said, with conviction in his tones;
"I like his picture better than any!"

"What, better than that gay cavalier!" cried Sir Richard, laughing.
"You don't mean to tell me you prefer Paul Gidley, the martyr, to his
fine relations!"

"Yes; I do. And I think mother would like him best. Was she ever
here?" he asked suddenly.

"Never!"

Sir Richard let the curtain fall before the picture; and presently
they went downstairs again, where Dick was handed over to Susan
Morecombe to be shown over the house. The little boy saw many things
to interest him that day; but foremost in his mind was the story of
the martyred monk, whose face was firmly impressed in his mind's eye.



CHAPTER VI

AN UNANSWERED QUESTION

NOT many days had elapsed after Dick's arrival at Holton before
he felt really at home at No. 8 Fore Street. Every morning he
accompanied the doctor on his round of visits, and soon grew to talk
to him with but little reserve. He had told him his impressions
of the Manor House, and had acknowledged that he did not much care
for his grandfather; whereupon Dr. Warren had advised him not to be
too hasty in forming an opinion of Sir Richard.

"Do you think my grandfather will ask me to spend a day with him
again?" Dick asked Miss Warren one afternoon, as he walked down the
village street by her side on their way to the post-office.

"I really cannot tell, my dear," she answered. "Did he say anything
about it?"

"No; nothing. What a grand place the Manor House is; isn't it? I know
now what mother meant when she said grandfather must be lonely;
any one would be in such a big house! Do you ever go to see him,
Aunt Mary Ann?"

"Go to see your grandfather? No, dear; never!"

"Why not?" Dick inquired. "I suppose you don't like him?" he added
after a moment's reflection, as Miss Warren made no response.

"Oh, that is not the reason!" she exclaimed hurriedly. "I never knew
much of Sir Richard. You see, Dick, he is not very sociable; and
though your Uncle Theophilus attends him when he is ill, we cannot
call him a friend of ours. He was never inside our doors until he
came to see you the other day."

"Oh!" cried Dick, in great surprise. "Wouldn't you like to see the
Manor House, Aunt Mary Ann?"

"Yes, I should," Miss Warren acknowledged; "but I beg you will never
tell your grandfather I said so, Dick. The fact is, dear, Sir Richard
is in a different position in life to us—to your Uncle Theophilus
and me. I don't suppose you understand what I mean, and it is a
little difficult to explain. Your Uncle Theophilus is only
a hard-working surgeon, whilst your grandfather is a large landowner
and a country gentleman."

"But Uncle Theophilus is a gentleman too!" Dick cried, lifting a pair
of wondering eyes to Miss Warren's face. "I think he's much more of a
gentleman than grandfather! Uncle Theophilus is always kind and
polite to people; and the day I spent with grandfather he was so
cross to the servants—as disagreeable and nasty as he could be
to them! Mother says a real gentleman never does anything to hurt
people. Oh, Aunt Mary Ann, I don't call grandfather a gentleman
at all!"

"Hush! You must not say that!" Miss Warren remonstrated, looking
quite distressed. "Little boys should not be so quick to judge
grown-up people. You must always try to think of Sir Richard
with respect, as well as treat him with respect, because he's your
grandfather and an old man. He was very kind to you the other day,
was he not? He showed you the picture-gallery himself, so he
evidently tried to entertain you."

"He told me I ought to be proud of my ancestors," Dick remarked
thoughtfully; "but they were not all good—he said so."

"You can be proud of the good ones," Miss Warren replied smiling;
"just as you are proud of your father."

"Oh, father's splendid!" Dick cried, his eyes shining. "Of course
I'm proud of him! I mean to grow up like him if I can!"

"Well, you can be proud of your ancestors who lived worthy of honour,
and were honest, honourable men just in the same way. That Paul
Gidley, for instance, who died for the sake of truth."

"I wish you could see his picture, Aunt Mary Ann! Oh, here we are
at the post-office!"

They entered, and were greeted by Miss Tidy from her position behind
the counter.

"Good afternoon, ma'am! Good afternoon, sir! I declare the young
gentleman is looking better already. Did you see Sir Richard Gidley
as you came down the street? No! Now, how could you have missed him,
I wonder? He was here only five minutes ago!"

"We did not notice his carriage anywhere," Miss Warren remarked.

"He is walking," Miss Tidy replied. "I always say that in spite of
his age, he is the finest man in the district. Ah!" bending across
the counter and fixing her keen eyes on Dick, "as I told the doctor
the other day, your little nephew's a Gidley, every inch of him."

"He resembles his father in features," Miss Warren allowed; "but he
is like his mother, too. I want some notepaper, if you please."

Whilst Miss Warren was selecting what she required, the post-mistress
kept up a run of small talk. She had seen little Dick driven past in
Sir Richard's carriage, and would fain have known how he was received
at the Manor House. However, she contented herself with asking him
how he liked his grandfather's home, and if he had ever seen so fine
an abode in India.

"No; never," Dick answered promptly. "I think it's a lovely place,
but a great deal too big for one person to live in."

"So it is," Miss Tidy agreed, laughing. "And Sir Richard only keeps
a few women-servants now instead of a proper establishment. I often
think it's not right there should be no able-bodied man in the house.
Groves, the coachman, lives at the lodge, and the stableman sleeps
over the stables, right away from the house. Suppose anything
happened—a burglary, or a fire!"

"We must hope nothing of the kind will ever happen," Miss Warren
said, smiling at the look of concern on Miss Tidy's face. "I think
that is all I require to-day."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll send the parcel up to your house this
evening. Good afternoon, ma'am! I daresay you'll meet Sir Richard
before you reach home; he must have been in a shop as you came down
the street."

But, as it happened, Miss Warren was not at all anxious to meet
Sir Richard. Accordingly, she turned in the direction of the beach,
where she found a shady spot, and sat down to rest, whilst her little
nephew roamed about within call and sight.

The sea always had a great attraction for Dick. To-day, the tide
being out, he wandered between the rocks, delighted with the
treasures he discovered—beautiful shells, delicately-tinted
anemones, and sea-weeds of various hues; but, at length, tired
himself, he returned to Miss Warren, and a short while later they
retraced their footsteps homewards.

Almost the first person they met in the village street was Sir
Richard Gidley. He lifted his hat courteously to Miss Warren, and
explained that he had called at the doctor's house to inquire for his
grandson.

"Oh, I am very well, thank you," Dick said brightly. "Aunt Mary Ann
and I have been down on the beach; it's lovely there!"

"When are you coming to see me again?" the old man asked, his stern
face softening a little as his eyes met his grandson's, which were
regarding him frankly and fearlessly.

"Whenever you like, grandfather," Dick replied politely.

"I give you an open invitation. Come to the Manor House whenever you
please, and you shall be welcomed. I suppose you are getting to know
your way about the district now, eh?"

"Oh, yes! I drive out with Uncle Theophilus every morning. Sometimes
he lets me drive; and he says, with practice, I shall be a capital
whip! We often pass near the Manor House. I could find the way there
by myself—I know I could. I should like to see the picture-gallery
again."

"Well, ask Dr. Warren to drop you at my door now and then,"
Sir Richard said graciously. "You have no objection, I suppose?"
he added, turning to Miss Warren.

"Oh, no," she answered. "I will tell my brother, and I am sure
he will do as you request."

"And if I tire of the boy I can send him away," Sir Richard remarked;
"but he does not appear a noisy child. He is looking better than
he was, Miss Warren."

"I am glad you think so," she responded, her manner growing more
cordial; "my brother hopes he will become quite robust in a very
short while. We mean him to spend most of the time in the open air
this summer."

Sir Richard nodded approval, then he moved away whilst Miss Warren
and Dick returned home to tea. The little boy wondered why his aunt
had looked so ill at ease as she had conversed with his grandfather,
but he did not ask her the reason.

There were several matters puzzling him which he had not liked
to mention to either Aunt Mary Ann or Uncle Theophilus; but that
night he made up his mind to question the latter upon some of those
points which bewildered him. Therefore when the doctor paid him
his accustomed visit after he was in bed, he began to unburden
his mind.

"Uncle Theophilus, I want to ask you some questions," he commenced
seriously, "and to tell you something grandfather said to me when
I was at the Manor House the other day; because I can't help thinking
about it, and it makes me very unhappy. He said father had offended
him—oh, I hated him for saying it. I don't believe father would do
anything wrong. You don't think it, do you?"

"We all do wrong sometimes," Dr. Warren answered, after a moment's
silence; "but I certainly do not believe your father would wilfully
do wrong, if that is what you mean. You know, Dick, people do not all
think alike; and it is a fact that your father offended Sir Richard."

"Won't you tell me what father did?" Dick questioned excitedly.

"No, my boy; if your father had desired you to know he would have
told you. I wonder Sir Richard mentioned the matter."

"He was so cross about it, especially when I said I didn't believe
father had done anything wrong."

"Well, there is no necessity for you to argue about it, especially
as you are ignorant of the facts."

"He said he had not forgiven father!" Dick cried indignantly. "How
can he be so wicked!"

"Please God he will forgive him some day," Dr. Warren said earnestly.
"Meanwhile, do not trouble about it, there's a good boy! Try to
forget it!"

"So many things worry me," Dick acknowledged, sighing. "It is so very
odd that mother did not tell me grandfather was angry with father.
Perhaps she does not know?"

"Yes, she does; but she did not wish you to know. That is why I want
you to let the matter rest. I feel certain your parents would wish
it. I am sure you will ask no questions they would rather not have
answered. Now, what else have you to say to me? I see there is
something more on your mind?"

"It is so strange that mother never told me about the Manor House,
Uncle Theophilus!"

"Not strange at all! She was never inside the walls of the Manor
House in her life, and, I believe, only once saw Sir Richard to speak
to. He was abroad when your parents were married."

Dick was not satisfied; but he perceived Dr. Warren meant to tell him
no more, so he wisely refrained from putting further questions.

"I do believe you are beginning to feel quite at home with us now,"
the doctor continued, changing the conversation. "You are happier
than you were at first, are you not?"

"Oh, yes!" Dick replied earnestly. "You and Aunt Mary Ann are so
kind—mother said you would be! Oh, Uncle Theophilus, I can't tell
you how thankful I am grandfather did not want me to live at the
Manor House! I am sure I should have run away!"

"No, my boy; I am sure you would have done nothing so wrong
or foolish if duty had called you there; but what is, is always best,
you know. We have talked quite long enough now, so I will say
good-night."

"Good-night!" Dick returned, shutting his eyes, and making up his
mind to try to think no more of his father's offence, and his
grandfather's unforgiveness.

Meanwhile Dr. Warren went downstairs, and repeated the foregoing
conversation to his sister.

"I cannot think how Sir Richard could have been so unwise as to speak
thus of his son," he said vexedly, in conclusion; "but it is like him
not to consider another's feelings. I could not tell Dick that his
grandfather considered his mother beneath his father in position.
Really, I cannot understand how the old man can be so bitter and
unforgiving!"

"He would not be if he really knew Margaret," Miss Warren returned,
her face flushing with indignation. "He is a proud, disagreeable
old man," she continued, her anger rising; "and I have no patience
with him! I suppose we must let Dick go to see him occasionally?
I hope he will not put wrong ideas into the boy's head!"

"What do you mean?" her brother asked anxiously.

"I mean I hope he will not teach him to be proud and overbearing
like himself. At present, Dick is such a sweet, lovable little
fellow, and Margaret has evidently taken great pains to make him good
and obedient. Fancy, Theophilus, she has taught him the very same
prayer I taught her when she could only lisp. I overheard Dick saying
it last night:—"

"'Gentle Jesus, meek and mild.'"

"You must have heard her repeat it often."

The doctor nodded, whilst the cloud of anxious thought left his face,
and he smiled his slow, sweet smile. "We won't worry as to the effect
Sir Richard's teaching may have upon Dick," he said; "the boy loves
his mother and will remember what she has taught him. Perhaps,
instead of Sir Richard doing Dick harm, Dick may do Sir Richard
good."



CHAPTER VII

SIR RICHARD TELLS DICK OF THE SECRET PASSAGE

IT was an intensely hot day in July, and Sir Richard Gidley was
taking his after luncheon nap in his favourite high-backed chair
in the dining-room at the Manor House, his handkerchief spread over
his face to keep the flies from worrying him. Through the low, open
window came the drowsy hum of insects, and the perfume of roses,
mignonette, and stocks; but Sir Richard was unconscious of scent or
sound for the time being, as he was in the land of dreams—not
pleasant dreams, it would seem, for he moved uneasily now and then,
and murmured with evident discontent.

At length an unusual sound came through the open window—a child's
gay laugh, full of merriment and the joy of life. The strange sound
awoke Sir Richard at once. He pulled the handkerchief off his face
and listened, but all was silent.

"I thought I heard some one laughing," he muttered. "I suppose I must
have been dreaming; I fancied it might have been Dick come to see me
at last. Pooh, how my mind dwells on the boy! Three days since I met
him and Miss Warren in the village, and I have neither seen nor heard
of him since! Can the Warrens be purposely keeping him away,
I wonder? No, I do not think they would do that! Ah! there it is
again! I was not mistaken!"

Sir Richard rose hastily and walked to the window. The scene that met
his eyes brought an involuntary smile to his lips. Upon the lawn were
two figures—his grandson and his favourite dog, Nero, a large black
Newfoundland. The dog, seated on his haunches, had his head decorated
with Dick's broad-brimmed sailor's hat, whilst the little boy knelt
at his side laughing. Usually, Nero brooked no interference from
strangers; but for some reason, he alone knew what, he had taken a
great fancy to Dick, and was allowing him more license than he gave
other people.

"Halloa!" cried Sir Richard, stepping into the garden; "have you and
Nero become playfellows?"

Dick sprang to his feet at the sound of his grandfather's voice, and
drawing his slight form to its fullest height, gravely raised his
hand in a military salute; then he took his hat from Nero's head, and
hurried to meet Sir Richard, whilst the dog followed at his heels.

"Yes," he replied gaily; "we have made friends with each other. How
do you do, grandfather? I came alone—that is, from the
lodge—Uncle Theophilus left me there. I said I could find my way
to the house!"

"Have you just arrived?" Sir Richard asked.

"Oh, no; I have been here quite a long while! I did not go to the
door, though; I peeped into the window there, and saw you with a
handkerchief over your face, and guessed you were asleep. I thought
I had better not disturb you; so I was going to wait quietly till you
woke up, but Nero came round the corner of the house, and I have been
playing with him. What a jolly dog he is, grandfather!"

"Yes; but I did not know he cared for children. Were you not afraid
of him?"

"No, indeed! I spoke to him, and he came to me at once, wagging his
tail. I held out the back of my hand to him, like I've seen father
do to strange dogs. He sniffed at it, and then gave it a lick. I knew
he was all right as soon as he did that."

Dick put one arm around the great dog's neck, whereupon the beautiful
creature turned his eyes upon him affectionately.

"There, grandfather!" cried the little boy delightedly. "Can't you
see he likes me? Look at the smile in his eyes! What lovely eyes
he has too—just the colour of the amber necklace my ayah used to
wear! Oh, you dear Nero!"

Sir Richard sat down upon a garden seat, and Dick took a place by his
side, whilst Nero laid his head on his new friend's knee, and watched
him intently with his amber eyes.

"So you had no difficulty in finding your way from the lodge," Sir
Richard said. "I was beginning to think Dr. Warren and his sister
meant to keep you to themselves. You have been in no hurry to come
and see me!"

"Did you expect me before?" Dick questioned in surprise. "Of course
I would have come if I had known that! But I've really been awfully
busy these last few days!"

"Indeed! What have you been doing?"

"Helping Aunt Mary Ann in the garden for one thing, washing the
insects off the roses, and tying up the carnations. Oh, by the way,
we have three bantam chicks! They were only hatched out yesterday;
and we were so anxious about them! Aunt Mary Ann half thought one egg
was addled; but it wasn't—the chick was hatched out all right after
all, though it's not nearly so strong as the other two. You don't
keep bantams, do you?"

"No; I do not," Sir Richard responded, amused at his grandson's
chatter. "What else has occupied your time?"

"Oh, I've written to mother and father. I began the letter days ago
and finished it last night. Uncle Theophilus helped me with the
spelling—he wrote too. And oh, grandfather, I've not seen you since
I heard from India, have I?"

"No."

"I've had such a beautiful letter from mother, and a few words from
father at the end just what he always says, you know."

"What does he always say?" Sir Richard asked curiously, his eyes
fixed, on the boy's changing countenance, which quivered with
suppressed emotion as he spoke of his parents.

"Be a brave boy! God bless you!" Dick quoted in husky tones. He
passed the back of his hand hastily over his eyes, but could not
repress a sigh that sounded almost like a sob. He set his teeth,
and determined he would not cry if he could possibly help it;
his grandfather would think him such a baby!

"Are Dr. Warren and his sister kind to you?" the old man inquired
abruptly.

"Oh, yes," Dick replied eagerly; "indeed they are! They are kind as
kind can be! You see," he continued confidentially, "they took care
of mother when she was a little girl, and now they are going to take
care of me till mother and father come home."

"They are very worthy people, no doubt!" Sir Richard remarked drily.

Dick scanned his grandfather's face with puzzled eyes; for he did not
understand his tone, although it annoyed him somehow. He flushed,
and turned his head aside, whilst he wondered if it was possible
Sir Richard did not like Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus. But it
was not in his nature to be silent long, so presently he re-opened
the conversation.

"This is a beautiful place," he remarked, glancing around him
admiringly; "but I should think you must feel very lonely here,
all by yourself, don't you, grandfather?"

"It is dull sometimes," Sir Richard acknowledged. "I do not get many
visitors. In August I suppose my daughter and her children will come
here for a month—your Aunt Arabella—Mrs. Compton—and your
cousins, Ruth and Lionel. Ruth is about your age, Lionel a year or so
older. I hope you will make friends with them."

"I did not know I had any cousins," Dick replied; "but I am very
glad." He was smiling with pleasure at the thought of meeting these
relations of his. "And I am very glad one is a boy!" he added.

"They tell me Ruth is a perfect hoyden," Sir Richard proceeded,
"and Lionel a domineering, high-spirited boy. But they do not
interfere with me when they are here; their mother manages to keep
them in order whilst in my presence, at any rate, though Susan
Morecombe declares she spoils them. I hope you will see as much of
your cousins as you can; the society of children about your own age
will be beneficial for you. Mind you hold your own with Lionel; and
remember you have as much right—nay, more right—in this house
than he has."

Dick looked decidedly mystified, seeing which, his grandfather
explained what he meant.

"This will be your home one day," he said earnestly; "your father
will inherit the property from me, and you will inherit it from him.
Look around and try to think what that means. Everything you see will
one day belong to you. You will be the master here."

Dick did not appear so greatly impressed with this information as his
grandfather thought he would be. He sat silently turning the matter
over in his young mind, growing more and more puzzled.

"Well," cried Sir Richard at length, rather testily. "Are you not
pleased? I should have thought you would have been delighted at the
idea of being a person of some importance. To think that your father
has brought you up in ignorance of your true position! And yet he
always professed to love his home! I have heard him say there was no
place so dear to him as the Manor House! I remember when he was a
little lad no bigger than you, he used to find endless amusement
in looking for the secret passage, and—"

"What is that?" Dick asked, his face showing greater interest than it
had done when his grandfather had tried to raise his enthusiasm
in his prospects in life.

"There is said to be a tunnel—a secret passage—leading from this
house to the sea-shore," Sir Richard explained. "It may have been
made at the time the house was built, or later, during the civil wars
when the Gidleys sided with the king. There is a very aged man living
in the village called Granfer Cole, who has often told me he
remembers when he was a boy hearing his father speak of the secret
passage—it was then used by smugglers for the concealment
of contraband goods."

"What are contraband goods?" Dick asked.

"Goods brought from foreign countries which have never had taxes paid
on them. A hundred years ago a great deal of smuggling was carried on
along this coast; silk, wine, brandy, and many other commodities were
landed here by stealth under cover of darkness, in order to escape
payment of the custom-house duties. That was cheating the revenue;
but even gentlemen then were not above lending a helping hand to do
that, and the master of this house was doubtless among those who
deliberately winked at the smuggler's doings. The secret passage must
have been a capital place of concealment for the smugglers and their
treasures. Granfer Cole says he can remember the time when there was
not a household in Holton, however humble, but kept a supply of best
French brandy; it was obtained at a cheap rate, for every one was
hand and glove with the smugglers."

"Were smugglers good sort of men?" Dick inquired.

Sir Richard smiled sarcastically, and shook his head as he
replied:—

"They were neither honest nor law-abiding, but they were a daring
lot, and had many sympathisers even among the higher classes."

"But if they were not honest, how was it people liked them?" Then as
Sir Richard made no reply, Dick exclaimed: "How I should like to see
that secret passage! Haven't you the least idea where it is,
grandfather?"

"Not the very least! I have no doubt the entrance to the passage from
the sea-shore has become blocked by stones and rubble; I have no clue
to the other entrance either—many and many a time I have tried
to think where it can possibly be, and your father used to be
continually searching the floors and walls of the cellars beneath the
house, hoping to find the entrance there, but all to no purpose. If
there is a passage, and I believe there is, it must be more than
half a mile in length!"

"Oh, what a wonderful place this is!" Dick cried excitedly. "May I
tell Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus about the secret passage when
I go home?"

"Certainly," Sir Richard replied carelessly, "though I daresay they
know as much about it as I do! By the way, is Dr. Warren going to
fetch you, or will he expect me to send you home?"

"Oh, Uncle Theophilus said he would fetch me about seven o'clock!
May I see the picture-gallery before I go, grandfather?"

"Yes. Go into the house and find Susan Morecombe. Tell her to get tea
ready in the dining-room. You can wander where you please about the
house, as long as you do not get into mischief."

Dick thanked his grandfather, and went off in search of Susan
Morecombe, entering the house by the dining-room window. Nero
followed him, whilst Sir Richard remained seated on the garden seat
a little longer. The old man felt in a decidedly better humour since
his visitor had arrived. It had gratified him to see how deeply
interested Dick had been in their conversation, though he was
somewhat disappointed that the boy had evinced no great pleasure
at learning he would one day be the owner of the Manor House.
Certainly his would be a goodly heritage! Pride and satisfaction
mingled in Sir Richard's heart as he glanced around him at the
ancient house, and the fair landscape which stretched before it.
He was better pleased with his grandson than he had been on that day
when he had met him for the first time in the doctor's drawing-room;
then, he had seen only a small, pale-faced boy; now, he recognised
the brave spirit which animated the fragile form, and was more
satisfied.

Meanwhile Dick, in company with Susan Morecombe, was paying his
second visit to the picture-gallery, asking dozens of questions, and
receiving much information in return. Then he had a splendid tea
of raspberries and cream, and another talk with his grandfather
before Dr. Warren arrived in his gig to take him away.

"Come again! Come when you like!" Sir Richard said to Dick after he
had exchanged a few words with the doctor.

"Oh, thank you!" the little boy replied, thinking how much pleasanter
his grandfather seemed to-day than on the occasion of his first visit
to the Manor House. "I have enjoyed myself so much! May I come again
soon?"

"Yes," the old man nodded, looking gratified. He turned to
Dr. Warren, and added: "The child appears brighter and stronger
already!"

"Ah, the scaffolding is sound enough," the doctor returned quaintly;
"there's a good frame-work to build upon; we'll soon put a little
flesh on his bones!"

Sir Richard watched the gig as it slowly disappeared from sight,
Firefly taking his time as usual. At that moment he almost wished he
had consented to make a home for his grandson at the Manor House;
he felt lonely now he was gone. Nero came and poked his cold, damp
nose into his master's hand, and looked up into the old man's face
with his expressive eyes.

"Are you sorry your playfellow has left?" said Sir Richard, as he
gently patted his favourite's head. "Would you, too, have liked him
to remain? Never mind, Nero, he will come again!"



CHAPTER VIII

A MORNING DRIVE

"DID Sir Richard say anything to you in reference to his expecting
visitors next month, Dick?" Miss Warren asked at the breakfast-table
the following morning. "He usually has his daughter and her children
to stay with him during August. I wonder if they are coming this
year?"

"Yes; he said they were," Dick replied. "I meant to have told you
last night; but I was thinking so much of the secret passage that I
forgot everything else. Grandfather didn't tell me much about them!"

"The children had the measles when they were at the Manor House last
summer," Miss Warren said. "You thought them nice children, did you
not, Theophilus?"

"Yes, as far as I could judge from the little I saw of them. Their
mother said they were tiresome monkeys; but that might have been
because they were not very ill, only poorly enough to be cross and
fidgety," the doctor responded with a slight smile. "So they are
coming again this summer, are they? That will be pleasant for you,
Dick!"

"Grandfather said he hoped I should be friends with them," Dick
remarked. "What is Aunt Arabella like, Uncle Theophilus?"

Dr. Warren hesitated, and glanced at his sister before replying;
but her eyes were fixed on her plate, and for once she appeared glad
for him to take the lead in the conversation.

"Mrs. Compton is like your father in personal appearance,"
he answered at length. "She is tall and handsome, with commanding
manners."

"Oh, if she is like father—" Dick was beginning, when his uncle
continued,—

"She is several years older than your father, and was married before
he was. Her husband, who was a barrister, died shortly after the
birth of her little girl. Mrs. Compton lives in London, at Hampstead.
I have heard her say she dislikes the country; however, she visits
her father every year when her children have their holidays from
school in the summer. I have no doubt she is curious to see her
nephew," he concluded, with an affectionate glance at Dick.

"Does she know mother?" the little boy asked eagerly.

"No; Mrs. Compton and your mother have never met."

Dick looked disappointed. Miss Warren now joined in the conversation,
which she adroitly turned into another channel.

Later on, when Dick was driving with Dr. Warren, he told him all
Sir Richard had said concerning his being the future owner of the
Manor House. The doctor listened in silence; but after he had heard
almost word for word the conversation which had taken place between
Dick and his grandfather, he brought Firefly to a full stop. They
were then at the top of a hill overlooking the village on one side,
and the blue waters of the English Channel; whilst on the other,
fully half a mile distant, the chimneys of the Manor House might be
seen in the wooded valley beneath.

"Do you see those broad meadows and green fallows?" Dr. Warren said;
"and those magnificent woods? Look all around you, Dick; as far as
eye can see the land belongs to your grandfather; in time it will be
your father's; and if you live, it will one day be yours. But when
you think of the earthly possessions which will be your inheritance,
do not forget that they will be yours but for a while, that in due
season they will pass from your grasp, and your portion will be where
neither money, nor worldly position, nor any of those things which
men value here, are of any account. 'Eye hath not seen, nor ear
heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which
God hath prepared for them that love him!' Remember that, and do not
let the thought of your inheritance in this life come between you and
the kingdom of God! Do you recall the story of the young man who came
to Christ and asked Him what he should do to inherit eternal life?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Dick, "I know! The young man said he had kept all
the commandments from his youth up; and Jesus told him to sell all
he had, and give the money to the poor, and then he was very
sorrowful!"

"And do you remember why he was so sorrowful?" Dr. Warren questioned
gravely.

"Yes, because he was very rich."

"Exactly. He had great earthly possessions, which he valued more than
a place in the kingdom of God. He was doubtless proud of his riches;
probably people thought more of him because of them, and though he
pretended he was ready to do anything to inherit eternal life,
he lacked the humble trust of the true Christian who is willing
to give up all for God. Now, Dick, I daresay you wonder why I am
talking to you so seriously and at such length upon this point;
but you will find many temptations assail you which you would never
have had to face if you had been born in a different class
of life—if you had no expectations, in short. You will be tempted
to be proud of your ancient name, of the position your family has
always held in the county, and I wish to warn you not to let this
pride have the mastery over you. Sir Richard—"

"Oh, I think he's awfully proud!" Dick interrupted. "He speaks as
though he is, even when he's in a good temper! I don't want to be
like grandfather! Oh, Uncle Theophilus, you don't think I could ever
be like him, do you? I am sure father is not! Father would not speak
to people as grandfather does!"

"No; I am sure he would not! But we will not discuss your
grandfather; if he is proud, he has many excellent qualities.
Every one knows he is the soul of honour!"

"But he is very unforgiving," Dick said, with a sigh; "that's
dreadful, I think! No wonder he looks so cross and unhappy!"

Dr. Warren made no reply, for he did not wish to say a word against
Sir Richard to the little boy. He gave Firefly a touch with the whip,
and they were soon descending the hill towards the village. Dick
continued to look very thoughtful; but at last his face cleared
somewhat, and he glanced up into the doctor's grave countenance
with a smile.

"Uncle Theophilus, I hope I shall never be like that young man who
went away from Jesus very sorrowful," he said seriously. "I shall
pray to God to help me not to be proud."

"Ask Him to teach you to set a right value on earthly possessions,
my boy, and then you will not go far wrong. Remember God expects from
you according to the advantages you have. Wealth and position are
good gifts if properly used. By the way, did you not tell me that you
saw the picture of Paul Gidley the martyr again, yesterday?"

"Yes; I do like his face, Uncle Theophilus! He looks so brave and
good! I wonder if he was afraid when they tied him to the stake!"

"God was with him," said the doctor reverently. "There was one
Gidley, at any rate, who counted honour, and home, and riches
as nothing compared with eternal life. He gave up everything for
Christ! He did not go from the Master's presence very sorrowful,
as so many have done, because he had great possessions!"

"Oh, no! How I wish I could be like him!" Dick cried
enthusiastically.

"You may not be called upon to be a martyr, my boy; but you may
imitate the martyr's faithfulness, his bravery, and his love
of truth!"

"And I may be proud of him, Aunt Mary Ann says!"

"Certainly you may, as we are proud, only of course in a much greater
degree, of our Saviour's death upon the Cross!"

"It's a great thing to have had a martyr in one's family," Dick
declared solemnly. "I like Paul Gidley's picture better than any
other in the gallery. I told grandfather so—he was surprised; and I
told mother when I wrote to her the other day—she will understand."

"I am sure she will," Dr. Warren agreed.

They were now passing the parish church. It stood at the top of the
village, surrounded by a small graveyard, from which there was an
extensive view of the sea; it was built of granite, and had withstood
the storms of many hundreds of winters. Outside the lych-gate was a
small, white-washed cottage, seated in the porch of which was a very
old man bent with the weight of years.

"That's Granfer Cole," Dr. Warren told his nephew; "he's the oldest
inhabitant of Holton."

"Oh! grandfather said he knew about the secret passage! Shall you
speak to him, Uncle Theophilus?"

"Certainly; he would be greatly offended if I did not!"

The doctor brought Firefly to a standstill; and the old man lifted
his head, revealing a wrinkled countenance, mild blue eyes, and a
flowing white beard. He was nearly a hundred years old; but his
intellect was as bright as ever, though he was almost blind. He had
been a fisherman, and knew the coast well.

"Good-morning, Granfer," said Dr. Warren, in his cheery way. "It is
pleasant for you there in the sunshine, and you can get the benefit
of the fresh air, too! I know you love the salt sea breeze!"

The old man nodded and smiled. He rose and came close to the gig,
peering up at its occupants. The doctor guessed he was curious to
know who was with him; so he explained that his companion was his
little nephew from India.

"That'll be Sir Richard Gidley's grandson, eh?" questioned Granfer.

"Yes! You remember Captain Gidley, do you not?"

"That I do; and two generations before his. Why, I was a man grown
when the present Sir Richard was a child! Think of that! I'm the
oldest body in the parish, I am!" and Granfer chuckled, as though he
was mightily proud of the fact.

"So my uncle was telling me just now," Dick said politely.

"I mind more than most," Granfer continued; "that's why folks come
to me when they want any information about the neighbourhood; and I'm
willing to oblige them, I am!"

"I wish you would tell me about the secret passage from the Manor
House to the sea!" Dick cried eagerly. "My grandfather told me that
you remember your father speaking of it!"

"So I do, so I do! There's a secret passage sure enough; but no one
knows where it is—no one!"

"I should like to find it!" Dick exclaimed.

The old man lifted his almost sightless eyes to the boy's face, then
shook his head regretfully.

"I wish I could see you, young gentleman," he said in wistful tones;
"but my eyes are dim with age. You've got the same ring in your voice
as your father had when he was a boy; and by that I can tell that
you've a brave spirit like all the Gidleys. Is he like his father
in appearance?" he asked of the doctor.

Dr. Warren assented; adding that every one remarked the likeness.

"What a pretty garden you have," Dick said, noticing a patch of
ground on one side of the cottage gay with flowers—marigolds,
candy-tuft, and other hardy annuals.

"I can't see to tend it myself now," Granfer responded; "but I've
grandchildren living in Holton, and one or another of them look after
it for me. I can smell the scent of the flowers, and tell one from
the other that way. I've a deal to be thankful for! Nigh a hundred
years of life has the Lord given me, and good health all my days!
I've worked hard in my time; but I've always loved the sea, and now I
can't sail on it any more, I can bide near it still, and smell the
salt air, and hear the waves dashing against the cliffs in a storm,
and think of Him who loved the sea too, and made His friends of
fisher-folk like me!"

"I am sorry your sight is so bad," Dick said compassionately. "It
must be dreadful not to be able to read!"

"I could never read, young gentleman—I was never taught; but I've
always had a good memory, and I can remember what I hear in church on
Sundays even now! 'Tis a blessing my home is so near the church,
I say!"

At that point Dr. Warren remarked that he must proceed as he had
still several patients left to visit. So they said good-bye
to Granfer Cole, who went back to his seat in the porch, gratified
at having had an interview with Sir Richard Gidley's grandson, for it
had given him something fresh to think about.

"I never saw any one so old as Granfer Cole before!" Dick exclaimed,
as Firefly turned into the village street. "Fancy having lived nearly
a hundred years, and never having learned to read in all that time! I
do wish he had said more about the secret passage, Uncle Theophilus!"

"I do not think he really knows more about it than other people;
he heard it mentioned by his father, and so has no doubts about there
being a secret passage somewhere; but he has no more idea than I have
where it is. What makes you think about it so much?"

"I hardly know! It would be such fun to find it! Wouldn't father
be surprised?"

"Well, Dick, I cannot advise you where to begin a search if you mean
to make one. The knowledge of the entrances to the passage died with
one of your ancestors; people say he was a smuggler, and that those
others who knew about the passage were killed in a fray with the
custom-house officers under the cliffs more than a hundred years ago.
You may well look shocked! Sir Richard evidently did not tell you
that?"

"No," Dick replied, appearing much impressed. "Is it very dishonest
to be a smuggler?"

"Yes, very. A smuggler is a thief because he robs the revenue of his
country."

Dick looked thoughtful. It was not pleasant to think there was
a thief in his list of ancestors, however daring he might have been.

Before going home Dr. Warren paid several calls upon patients in the
village, whilst his little nephew waited outside the houses in the
gig, holding the reins; for the doctor was by no means fearful lest
Firefly should become restive or run away. At last, however,
Dr. Warren paid his last call for that morning, and drove homewards.
As they drew up before the door of No. 8, Dick remarked—

"After all, Uncle Theophilus, I don't know what good it would be if I
did find the secret passage."

"No good that I can see," the doctor agreed; "you might be better
employed. Have you enjoyed our drive to-day?"

"Oh, very much, thank you!" Dick answered gratefully, as he clambered
down from the gig. "I must go and find Aunt Mary Ann, and tell her
I've seen the oldest man in the parish!"



CHAPTER IX

A SLIGHT ACCIDENT

ALTHOUGH Dick had decided that it would not benefit either him or any
one else if he found the secret passage, yet he could not put the
matter out of his mind. It fascinated him; and he thought of it the
first moment he opened his eyes in the morning, and the last thing
at night; it haunted him in his sleep, and more than once he awoke
screaming and shaking with excitement after a vivid dream that he was
being chased by smugglers armed with pistols and knives. On one of
these occasions he shrieked so loudly that he awoke Miss Warren,
who rushed to his room to see what was amiss. "Good patience, child!"
she cried, as she bent over him. "What is wrong? Don't scream like
that! Don't you know me? It's only Aunt Mary Ann!"

"Oh, oh!" gasped the little boy. "They're after me!"

"Nonsense! You're only half awake yet! Who's after you, pray? There's
no one here but me! You've no real cause to be frightened!"

"I am very sorry," Dick said apologetically "I think I've had a bad
dream!" and he shuddered at the remembrance of it.

"A bad dream," Miss Warren echoed. "Nightmare, most likely! Bless the
child, you're shaking like an aspen leaf!"

"I'm very sorry," murmured Dick again. "I know I've been very silly.
I'm not frightened now."

"There is nothing to be frightened at," Miss Warren told him
reassuringly. "Who did you think was after you, my dear?"

"The smugglers. I was dreaming of the secret passage, and—"

"There, now!" Miss Warren interposed vexedly. "I guessed as much!
You have had your head filled with tales of smugglers, and secret
passages, and nonsense of that kind till you've let your imagination
run away with you! I'll sit by your side till you go to sleep, and
then you'll feel perfectly safe, will you not?"

Dick assented gratefully. He was very ashamed of himself for having
disturbed his aunt's rest; but it was a comforting thought that she
was near. She was as good as her word, and remained patiently
watching him till he fell asleep.

The next morning, at the breakfast-table, she told her brother of the
scene which had been enacted during the night, and gave him a
description of Dick's terror at his dream.

"A fine fright he gave me too!" she said in conclusion; "I thought
something dreadful had happened, and was quite relieved to find
he had only been dreaming!"

"He could not help it," the doctor replied with a glance of sympathy
at his little nephew's pale face. "I remember when I was a boy,
I used to have nightmare myself, and imagine I was falling out of a
window, or down a precipice, or being chased by a wild animal,
or something equally ridiculous. You shall have your supper a little
earlier for the future, Dick. So your nightmare took the shape
of smugglers, eh?"

"Yes," Dick said; "and awful-looking men they were, with dreadful,
wicked faces. I thought I was in the secret passage, and they were
running after me; then I suppose I screamed, and Aunt Mary Ann heard
me, for when I woke up, there she was standing by the bed. Oh, wasn't
I glad to see her."

"I believe I was almost as much frightened as Dick," Miss Warren
acknowledged.

"Well, you have both recovered from your fright now," the doctor
remarked; "and I daresay last night's scene will never be enacted
again. I am not going to take you with me this morning, Dick, because
I am going to visit a patient who lives five miles distant, and may
have to remain there some time."

"Perhaps Dick and I may spend our morning on the beach," Miss Warren
suggested. "I could take my needlework with me, and Dick would find
his own amusements."

"Oh, yes!" Dick agreed delightedly. "The tide will be out, and it's
always nicer then!"

"Mind you do not fall on the rocks," Dr. Warren said warningly; "some
of them are as slippery as glass, covered as they are with sea-weeds.
Be careful—there's a good boy."

An hour later found Miss Warren and Dick wending their way to the
sea-shore. The latter carried a camp-stool which, upon their arrival
on the beach, he set up in the shade of a rock for his aunt to sit
upon.

"Now, my dear," said Miss Warren, as she took her seat and proceeded
to unfold a parcel of plain needlework which she had brought with
her, "you need not stay with me, you know; only keep within sight and
I shall be easy in my mind about you."

"All right, Aunt Mary Ann; I will," Dick answered, truly meaning what
he said.

He ran off towards the edge of the water, Miss Warren glancing after
him with a bright smile. She had grown to love her little nephew very
dearly; he added to the happiness of her life, and she was quite
grateful to his grandfather for having declined to take charge
of him.

"How we should miss him if he left us!" she reflected. "I do not
believe his parents would allow Sir Richard to have him now!
Theophilus says he believes the old man is growing really to like
the boy. Oh, I hope he will never want to take him away from us!
Good gracious!"

The last exclamation broke from her lips as a large black dog bounded
past her, and made for the little figure at the water's edge. It was
Nero. Miss Warren recognised him immediately, and glanced around
nervously, expecting to see his master near; but the dog was
apparently quite alone. She drew a sigh of relief, and watched Nero
with some amusement as he sprang around Dick, barking with delight
at having discovered his new friend.

"Dear Nero! Good dog!" Dick cried, his face aglow with pleasure.

Nero allowed himself to be patted and caressed with exemplary
patience for a few minutes; then he bounded into the sea, and back
to Dick's side again, evidently inviting him to throw something into
the water for him to fetch. The little boy at once complied with the
dog's request, and soon he and Nero were having a most enjoyable time
together. Dick tired of throwing stones long before Nero tired of
fetching them. The sagacious creature never made the mistake
of bringing another stone instead of the one thrown.

Miss Warren watched the boy and the dog for some while, her face
wreathed in smiles, then she turned her attention to her needlework.

Meanwhile, Dick having wearied of throwing stones, wandered away
between the rocks. He took off his shoes and stockings, and placed
them in a spot where he thought he would have no difficulty in
finding them again; and then, rolling up his knickerbocker above his
knees, paddled in and out of the little pools between the rocks.
He forgot all about his aunt's desire that he would not go out of
sight, and his promise, and presently found himself walking beneath
the shade of the high cliffs which surrounded the coast at that
point. How he wished he could find the entrance to the secret
passage! Fired with the ambition to do so, he peered hither and
thither into every nook and cranny he came across, totally regardless
of how the time was passing. Nero kept by his side, every now and
again picking up lumps of sea-weed and offering them to Dick as
though he realised the boy was looking for something, and desired
to assist him if he could. At length Dick, for the first time,
glanced behind him, and saw that he had wandered much further than he
had intended. Holton beach, with Miss Warren seated on her
camp-stool, the fishing-boats drawn up out of reach of the incoming
tide, and the nets spread to dry in the sun, were out of sight; only
a strip of rock-strewn sand beneath overhanging cliffs was to be
seen. Suddenly remembering that he had disobeyed his aunt, and not
kept his word, Dick hastily retraced his footsteps. When he reached
the spot where he considered he had left his shoes and stockings,
they were nowhere to be seen; he glanced hastily around, and lo!
there they were apparently floating out to sea. For one moment Dick
was in despair of ever getting them again; but then he remembered
Nero, and, pointing them out to him, the intelligent animal grasped
the situation at once and fetched them immediately.

"Nero, you are the dearest, cleverest dog I know!" cried Dick, with
mingled enthusiasm and gratitude in his voice.

One trouble over, Dick hastened on, and had nearly turned the corner
of the cliff which would bring him within sight of Holton beach, when
he slipped on a piece of sea-weed and fell into a pool of water on
his face and hands. He emerged sputtering and dripping, whilst Nero
barked as though he thought it the best joke in the world.

Dick was in despair. What would Aunt Mary Ann say when she saw his
deplorable condition? She would have every right to be very angry.
Whilst he was thinking thus Miss Warren herself came upon the scene,
having missed him, and become uneasy as to his safety.

"Dick!" was all she could find voice to say, as her astonished eyes
fell upon the little, dripping figure; "Dick!" she repeated, and
positively gasped with dismay.

"I'm rather wet, Aunt Mary Ann," Dick acknowledged with a slight
shiver. "I fell into a pool. I don't quite know how it happened. Oh,
it wasn't Nero's fault!" he added quickly, as he saw her eyes turn
to the dog. "Nero has been so good! The tide came in and carried my
shoes and stockings out to sea, and he fetched them back. Wasn't that
clever of him?"

"You had better put them on at once," Miss Warren said, the vexation
she felt sounding in her voice.

Dick obeyed; but it was a difficult task, for his shoes and stockings
were perfectly sodden with seawater; at last, however, it was
accomplished.

"Now, come home!" said Miss Warren. "I don't know what the villagers
will think of you, I'm sure! Fortunately salt water does not, as a
rule, induce cold; still, we had better hurry home."

"Shall I carry your camp-stool, Aunt Mary Ann?" Dick asked, in a meek
voice.

"No, thank you; I prefer to carry it myself!"

Miss Warren marched on in front looking extremely dignified, and Dick
followed with Nero at his heels. It would have been difficult to say
if the boy or the dog was the wetter.

Dick walked with great discomfort, for his garments were sticking to
his skin; and he was fully conscious of the looks—half-astonished,
half-amused—on the faces of those he met. He knew his aunt was
angry, and not without cause. He was feeling extremely miserable and
dejected; so that when he saw his grandfather's figure emerge from a
shop doorway, his first impulse was to take to his heels and run
away. Instead of acting thus foolishly, however, he continued
to advance, though he could not help growing uncomfortably red.

"Good-morning, Miss Warren!" Sir Richard said; and she was obliged
to stop and shake hands with him. He seemed in a particularly genial
humour, and viewed his grandson with a twinkle of amusement in his
keen dark eyes.

"Have you met with an accident, Dick?" he inquired. "You look—well,
to put it mildly—a trifle moist!"

"Moist!" echoed Miss Warren. "He is dripping, simply dripping!"

"Has he been bathing with his clothes on?" Sir Richard asked. "Why,
here's Nero!" he continued, without waiting for a reply to his
question. "He deserted me an hour ago! Where have you been, you bad
dog?"

"He has been with Dick for the last hour," Miss Warren explained.

"Did he lead you into mischief, Dick?" Sir Richard questioned.
"He loves the water, I know."

"It was not Nero's fault," the little boy declared. "I fell into a
pool; that's how it is I happen to be so wet. It was very careless
of me; but really I couldn't help it!"

"I shall not mind if he does not take cold," Miss Warren said,
looking relentingly at the offender's abashed countenance. "You will
excuse us, Sir Richard—Dick must get home as quickly as possible."

"Certainly, certainly. Good-morning, Miss Warren! Good-morning, Dick!
Come with me, Nero!"

The dog followed his master obediently, now and again pausing
a moment to look wistfully after Dick's retreating figure.

As soon as Miss Warren and her little nephew reached home,
she insisted on putting him to bed—not for punishment, as she
explained, for she had regained her good-humour, and had accepted
Dick's apologies—but because she considered such treatment would
prevent his feeling any ill effects from his accident.

So Dick lay patiently in bed with the blinds of his room drawn
to exclude the brilliant sunshine, and with his aunt by his side
refusing to talk, for fear, as she said, of unduly exciting him after
the shock she persisted he must be suffering from on account of his
unexpected ducking. In vain did Dick protest he felt quite well;
he had to remain in bed till the doctor returned, when he was
permitted to get up and come downstairs for tea. Seeing Aunt Mary Ann
was vexed no longer, he was perfectly willing to give an account
of his morning's adventure, and owned that he had been so intent
in searching for the entrance to the secret passage that he had
forgotten the flight of time.

"I quite forgot I had promised not to go out of sight," he said
in conclusion with a deprecating glance at Miss Warren.

"Ah, but you should never forget a promise, my boy," the doctor told
him gravely, "even if it seems only a trifling matter. I do not know
that you could have come to any great harm among the rocks; but you
must be more cautious for the future, or I know your aunt will be
always fussing when you are out of her sight, and it ought to be
unnecessary to keep a watch on a boy of your age. You are old enough
to take care of yourself."

"I'm afraid I'm always rather inclined to anticipate misfortune,"
Miss Warren acknowledged with a sigh. "I well remember how anxious
I used to be about your dear mother, Dick, when she was a little
girl. Dear me, how vexed I was this morning to meet Sir Richard!"

"Ah, I saw him later on," Dr. Warren said. "He told me of Dick's sad
plight, which seems to have caused him some amusement, by the way.
I learnt from him that Mrs. Compton and her children are expected
to-morrow evening; he is desirous that Dick should see as much of his
cousins as possible. I said I was sure Dick would be glad of the
company of children of his own age."

"Oh, yes," cried Dick eagerly; "that is, if I like them! I wonder
if I shall," he added reflectively.

"I do not doubt you will; but you will soon find that out. I daresay
your cousins are as anxious and curious to meet you as you are
to meet them. Sir Richard said he should expect to see you at the
Manor House the day after to-morrow, and I promised to drop you
at the lodge as I did the last time you were there."

"I wish you would tell me more about my aunt and cousins, Uncle
Theophilus," Dick requested; "I want to know what they are really
like, and—"

"You will be able to form your own opinion of them shortly,"
the doctor interposed; "I am not good at descriptions of people."

With that answer the little boy had to be satisfied; for Miss Warren
knew even less of the Comptons than did her brother. She had seen
them in church on Sundays during previous summers, but had never
spoken to either mother or children. Dick was more and more surprised
to find how little intercourse there had been between the Manor House
and No. 8 Fore Street. It puzzled him greatly, and worried him too;
but Aunt Mary Ann looked so unhappy when he spoke to her about it
that he let the subject drop, and determined never to mention it to
her again. He had grown much attached to dear, fussy Aunt Mary Ann,
and would not willingly have troubled her for the world.



CHAPTER X

DICK'S COUSINS

IT was eight o'clock on the morning subsequent to the arrival of Mrs.
Compton and her children at the Manor House, and Lionel and Ruth
Compton raced each other down the wide staircase and collided at the
bottom. The latter was thrown down; but picking herself up
immediately, she turned to her brother and declared,—

"I got down first!"

"No, you did not!" he promptly contradicted.

"I did! Hush! Here comes grandfather!"

The children stood side by side, watching the old man as he came
slowly across the hall towards them. He had entered the house by the
front door, for he was an early riser, and had been strolling about
the garden when the sound of the breakfast-bell fell upon his ears.

"Good-morning, grandfather!" said Lionel.

"Good-morning, grandfather!" echoed Ruth.

Sir Richard glanced at them keenly. They were tall, well-grown
children, with fresh complexions, bright blue eyes, and fair hair;
but they appeared uneasy beneath their grandfather's scrutiny, the
truth being that they regarded him with awe and fear. They knew their
mother dreaded his violent temper; and from their earliest days
they had been taught that he must not be crossed or vexed in any way,
the consequence being that they were never their lighthearted selves
in his presence.

"Good-morning, children!" Sir Richard responded. "Is your mother
down? No! Well, I shall not wait for her! Eight o'clock is my
breakfast-hour, as she knows from experience! Why are you lingering
here in the hall? Come, everything will be cold!"

They followed him into the breakfast-room, and took their seats
at the table. As Sir Richard was put out that his daughter was late,
he vented his irritability on the children. He scolded Lionel
for slopping his coffee on the table-cloth; and when Ruth, from sheer
nervousness, dropped her knife on the floor and was obliged to dive
under the table to fetch it, re-appearing with a face crimson and
abashed, he added to her confusion by asking if she took her meals
in the nursery at home.

"No," the little girl replied, tears of mortification filling her
eyes, "we always have breakfast with mother."

"At what hour, may I inquire?" Sir Richard questioned with an
affectation of politeness.

Before Ruth could reply, however, Mrs. Compton hurriedly entered the
room. She kissed her father, and sitting down at the table,
apologised for being late, adding that she had been very tired
the previous night, and had overslept herself. He appeared slightly
mollified on hearing this, and the meal proceeded more happily.
The children sat by in silence, whilst their elders talked on
indifferent subjects. At last their grandfather made a statement
which aroused their interest.

"Children, your cousin will be here to-day. I expect you to be kind
and friendly to him. Do you understand?"

"Yes, grandfather," responded two meek voices.

"You have not yet told me what you think of the boy, father,"
Mrs. Compton said, with decided curiosity in her voice. "Is he like
my brother or—her?"

"He is like your brother; and there is a look about him of Paul
Gidley the martyr," Sir Richard answered briefly.

"Oh!" Mrs. Compton looked thoughtful. "And you are satisfied
with him?" she inquired.

"Yes; perfectly satisfied. I wish he was stronger; but Dr. Warren
assures me he will improve in health—in fact, I can see a marked
change for the better in the child since his arrival in England, I am
sure he has grown these last few weeks, and he looks stronger and
healthier altogether than he did at first."

"I wonder his mother was satisfied to send him to England alone.
Is it not strange she did not accompany him? I am sure nothing would
induce me to part with my darlings like that!"

"Ah, but not every mother is so devoted to her children as you are,
my dear Arabella," Sir Richard said sarcastically.

Mrs. Compton coloured at her father's tone; but she would not allow
herself to be put out of temper, and proceeded,—

"For my part I am very glad the boy's mother is where she is!
It would have made things awkward if she had come home too! Richard
wanted you to have the boy here, did he not? Of course that would not
have done!"

"Why not?" Sir Richard asked bluntly. Then, without waiting for a
reply, he said— "It would have done excellently well, as it
happens. I regret exceedingly I did not accede to my son's
suggestion. Had I known Dick was the sort of boy he is I should
certainly have had him here."

Mrs. Compton was too astonished to speak for several minutes. During
the last ten years, obeying her father's command, she had held
no communication with her brother. When the arbitrary old man had
declared that never, as long as he lived, would he forgive his son
for making what he considered an imprudent marriage, she had held her
tongue, and though she had not openly quarrelled with her brother,
she had tacitly sided with her father against him.

"And what sort of boy is he?" she asked presently.

"You will soon be in a position to judge for yourself," Sir Richard
told her. "When he is spoken to he holds his head up and looks one
in the face; he does not drop his eyes like Lionel there!"

Lionel grew very red at this unprovoked attack, and gave Ruth a kick
under the table as a relief to his feelings, which made her jump
violently, whereupon her grandfather asked what was the matter.

"Nothing—nothing!" she answered, not daring to tell the truth
for fear of the consequences.

"If the children have finished their breakfasts, can they not go?"
Mrs. Compton interposed.

"Certainly. Listen to me, Ruth and Lionel, both of you. Your cousin
will walk from the lodge to the house, and you can go to meet him.
He will probably arrive shortly after ten."

"Yes, grandfather," they replied.

"That's all. Now you may go."

They obeyed quietly; but the minute they were out of the room they
rushed helter-skelter upstairs to fetch their hats, and, retracing
their footsteps, went out of the front door and through the front
garden to the grounds beyond.

"I know he'll be a hateful young prig!" Lionel remarked as soon as
they were out of call from the house. He, of course, referred to his
unknown cousin. "I'm certain he will be from the way grandfather
spoke of him!"

Ruth nodded. She had forgiven his brotherly kick, and was in entire
sympathy with him now.

"Holds up his head and looks one in the face!" the boy continued
scornfully, quoting Sir Richard's words. "Puts on airs, no doubt, and
thinks he's mighty fine because he'll be master here one day! Well,
one thing I know—he won't boss me about!"

"Nor me!" echoed Ruth, in her shrill treble.

"A wretched kid like that!" Lionel cried wrathfully. "Why, he's no
older than you! We're to be kind and friendly to him! Did you hear
that? And his mother was a nobody! She hadn't a penny to bless
herself with; and Uncle Richard made a great mistake when he married
her! I heard mother say so! Dr. Warren is her uncle, and he lives in
the village opposite a baker's shop!" and there was scorn and
contempt in the boy's tone.

"I like Dr. Warren," Ruth said. "I thought you did too, Lionel!
Don't you remember how kind he was last year when we had
the measles?"

"Oh, yes; I know that! But I heard mother say his niece was not
at all a suitable wife for Uncle Richard, and grandfather has never
forgiven him for marrying her."

The children strolled idly about the grounds, discussing their
elders, and putting their own constructions upon their remarks
and actions, as children do.

"If that kid was not coming we might have gone down to the beach,"
Lionel said at length, regretfully. "I wonder how much longer
we shall have to wait before he arrives!"

They had reached the lodge by this time. It was a pretty,
rose-covered cottage adjoining the main road, inhabited by Groves,
Sir Richard's coachman, and his wife.

Mrs. Groves, a portly person in a lilac cotton gown, was whitening
her doorstep as the children approached. They explained they were
on the look-out for their cousin, and willingly accepted her
invitation to come into the lodge and wait.

They had been in Mrs. Groves' parlour before. It was a tiny room,
with pots of geraniums in full flower on the window-seat. The walls
were covered with a bright crimson paper, and were adorned with
coloured prints, and various photographs and nick-nacks. A round
mahogany table, brightly polished, stood in the middle of the room,
with a basket laden with wax fruit and flowers, covered with a glass
shade, in the centre, which was Ruth's especial admiration.

The children sat on a little chintz-covered sofa near the open
window, from which they could see the highroad, and chatted and
laughed without restraint; they were very different from the subdued,
silent pair who had breakfasted with their grandfather that morning.

"This is the dearest, sweetest little room I ever saw!" Ruth
exclaimed, looking around with approving eyes. "It is so cosy and
comfortable! Mrs. Groves, I would far rather live here than at the
Manor House!"

Mrs. Groves laughingly shook her head; but she was secretly
very gratified.

"It's bright and cheerful," she replied; "and I do think a home
should be that, if it's ever so small!"

"Yes," Ruth agreed, nodding her fair head. "The pattern of your
carpet is so pretty, too! I like those big bunches of roses! I should
dearly love to have a little room like this for my very own!"

"I wonder how you'll get on with your cousin," Mrs. Groves remarked.
"He's not so old as you, Master Lionel, and not so tall by
half a head! Sir Richard seems to have taken to him wonderfully,
I'm told, and—"

She paused abruptly at the sound of approaching wheels. The children
darted excitedly out of the lodge, and flung open the heavy iron
gates, whilst Mrs. Groves followed at a more leisurely pace, in time
to see the doctor's gig draw up and Dick clamber down.

So it was that it fell to Dr. Warren's lot to introduce the children
to each other. He was pleased that the Comptons had come to meet
their cousin; and drove off quite satisfied that Dick would soon make
friends of them.

After a few words with Mrs. Groves, the young folks made their way
towards the house. For a short distance they were rather silent. Dick
could not think of a subject to talk about; so that it was quite
a relief when Lionel began to ask him questions, all of which
he answered willingly and with no reserve. The elder boy soon
extracted a great deal of information from the younger; amongst other
things he learnt how dearly Dick loved his parents, and what a grief
it had been to him to be sent away from them.

"Why didn't your mother come with you?" Ruth asked curiously, mindful
of the conversation she had heard at the breakfast-table that
morning.

"Because she couldn't leave father," Dick replied promptly;
"and—and she said it was my duty to come to England alone; so,
of course, I did not make more fuss than I could help. I didn't want
father to think me a coward. Father's a brave soldier, you know; and
mother says I must always remember I'm a soldier's son, and do
my duty."

"We don't remember our father," Ruth said regretfully; "he died when
Lionel and I were very young."

"Uncle Theophilus told me that," Dick returned, with sympathy in his
voice.

"Uncle Theophilus!" Lionel exclaimed with a laugh. "Do you mean
Dr. Warren? Uncle Theophilus! What a name!"

"It's a very good name!" Dick retorted, flushing with annoyance.
"I don't know why you're laughing!"

"What do you call Miss Warren?" Ruth asked hastily, with a warning
glance at her brother. "I've seen her in church; I think she looks
very nice."

"She is," Dick replied; "she's awfully good and kind! I call her Aunt
Mary Ann!"

"Mary Ann!" Lionel echoed. "Is that her name? Mary Ann! We had a cook
called that! Uncle Theophilus and Aunt Mary Ann! Oh, I say, what a
joke!"

"I don't know what you mean!" Dick cried indignantly. "I don't see
any joke! I think you're very silly!"

Lionel stopped laughing, and looked at Dick with some surprise.
He had expected that his cousin would be abashed, not annoyed.

"And you're very rude," Dick continued hotly; "that is, if you're
laughing at Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus—perhaps you're not?"

"But I am!" the other boy retorted. "Why shouldn't I, if I please?
Look here, youngster, don't you try dictating to me, because that
won't do, you know!"

"I don't want to dictate to you, but—"

"You'd better not, or you'll repent it!" Lionel declared
aggressively. "If I like to laugh at your Aunt Mary Ann and your
Uncle Theophilus, you needn't interfere! Who's Dr. Warren, pray?
A mere nobody, and—"

"He's not a mere nobody! You shan't speak of him like that!
You shan't!" and Dick clenched his hands and turned pale, whilst
his eyes deepened and darkened in colour.

"Mind who you're talking to!" Lionel said angrily.

[Illustration: "Let me go!" said Dick, hoarsely.]

"Do you think I'm going to hold my tongue to please a small kid
like you?"

"Oh, don't make a row!" Ruth interposed quickly. "Please don't
quarrel with him, Lionel! What will grandfather say?"

"He'd better not go sneaking to grandfather!" her brother cried.
"If he does, I'll give him something he won't easily forget! Now,
then," he proceeded, grasping Dick by the shoulder, "you attend
to me! What are you shaking for, you little coward."

The younger boy vouchsafed no reply. Every vestige of colour had gone
from his face, and he was shaking, but not from fright, as Lionel
imagined; he was, in reality, quivering with passion.

"I'll give you something to shake for, if you don't take care,"
Lionel said scornfully. "You'd better mind your own business for the
future; and if I like to joke about your grand relations who live
opposite the baker's shop, and—"

"Let me go!" said Dick hoarsely; then, as Lionel only grasped him
tighter, with a sudden movement he wrenched himself free, and struck
his cousin a swift blow in the face with his clenched fist.

There was a moment's dead silence. Ruth gave a little cry of affright
when she saw the blood flowing from her brother's nose; whilst Dick,
though still angry, felt alarmed and somewhat guilty. Lionel was glad
to accept the loan of the others' pocket-handkerchief; and presently,
when his nose had ceased bleeding, he glanced at his cousin rather
shamefacedly.

"It was your own fault, Lionel," Ruth reminded him; "it's no good
pretending it wasn't! You'd better make it up with him!"

"Yes, let us be friends," Dick said, remembering his grandfather's
desire on that point. "I hope I didn't hurt you much! I did not mean
to make your nose bleed! I'm awfully sorry—really!"

"All right!" Lionel answered gruffly, "you've apologized, and that's
enough. Say no more about it, and I won't laugh at Dr. Warren and his
sister again. Ruth, if you sneak—"

"As though I would!" the little girl broke in indignantly. "You know
I'm not like that!"

The trio now proceeded more amicably, and by the time the home was
reached, Dick was himself again, though he still felt indignant at
the manner in which Lionel had spoken of Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle
Theophilus.



CHAPTER XI

A SECRET COMPACT

SIR RICHARD GIDLEY and his daughter were seated on one of the garden
seats in front of the house when the three young folks came in sight.
A look of indecision crossed Mrs. Compton's handsome countenance when
she saw them, and she glanced at her father nervously, as though
wondering how he would expect her to meet Dick; but he was not
looking at her—his eyes were fixed on the approaching children.

Dick ran forward to speak to his grandfather, conscious of the
proud-looking lady at his side, whilst Ruth and Lionel paused at a
little distance, surprised that their cousin evidently felt no fear
of Sir Richard.

"Well. Dick," said the old man quite genially, "so you and your
cousins have made friends, eh? That's right! Now, I want to introduce
you to your aunt. Arabella, this is Richard's boy. He is like your
brother, is he not?"

"Yes," Mrs. Compton responded briefly, as she extended her hand
to Dick.

He glanced up at her a trifle wistfully. There was something in his
look which appealed to the mother's instinct in her heart, and
forgetful of the keen old eyes watching her so intently, she put her
arms around her nephew, and gave him a lingering kiss. He returned
her embrace with great warmth, for he had not expected such a kindly
welcome from his first glance at her face.

Sir Richard rose abruptly, and walked a few paces away, leaving aunt
and nephew together; whilst Ruth and Lionel conversed in whispers,
keeping watch on their grandfather the while to see he did not come
upon them unawares.

"So you are Richard's boy," Mrs. Compton said, smiling at Dick; "I am
very glad to see you, my dear, and I hope you will spend a lot
of time at the Manor House whilst the children and I are here. Why,
what a pale-faced little lad you are, and yet your grandfather says
you are far better than when you arrived in England!"

"Indeed I am!" Dick assured her earnestly. "Uncle Theophilus has
written and told father so; he'll be glad, because I'm going to be
a soldier when I'm a man, if I'm strong enough. Feel the muscle in my
arm! Uncle Theophilus says it's getting firmer every day!"

Mrs. Compton did as she was requested, laughing the while.

"I suppose Uncle Theophilus is Dr. Warren?" she asked. "I know him."
She looked thoughtfully at Dick. "Yes, you are like the Gidleys," she
said; "my father is right, I can see the resemblance to Paul Gidley."

"Does grandfather say I am like him?" Dick questioned, looking
pleased and surprised. "Oh, I hope I am! I shall tell mother what you
say; I'm quite sure she'll be glad!"

Mrs. Compton made no reply, for her attention had been attracted
by her father, who was evidently watching her closely. She saw there
was a decided look of approval on his face, and guessed he was
pleased she had greeted Dick so warmly. Sir Richard now returned
to her side, calling to Ruth and Lionel, who approached with apparent
reluctance. Mrs. Compton could not but be struck with the difference
between their embarrassed manner in their grandfather's presence, and
her nephew's frank, fearless behaviour.

"What is that on your collar, Lionel?" said Sir Richard. "Why, it is
blood! How did it come there?"

"I'm sure I don't know!" Lionel replied hastily, without the least
hesitation.

"Nonsense! You must know! What have you been doing?" Sir Richard
cried sharply. "Come, speak out!"

"I haven't been doing anything," Lionel declared in a sulky tone.
"If there's blood on my collar I can't help it! I don't know how it
came there!"

Dick was simply astounded to hear his cousin lie so glibly.
The colour rushed to his face; and his grandfather, happening to
glance at him at that moment, was struck by his guilty appearance.

"Perhaps you can throw some light on the matter, Dick?" he said
enquiringly. "What has Lionel been doing?"

"It was my fault!" Dick cried distressfully. "I hit him, and made his
nose bleed, and I suppose some of the blood got on his collar! It was
very wrong of me; I know I ought not to have struck him; but we've
made it up now, haven't we, Lionel?"

"Yes," Lionel acknowledged, wishing heartily his cousin had held
his tongue.

"What made you lie to me?" demanded Sir Richard furiously, turning
upon his elder grandson in a passion. "You know I hate a liar!"

"Oh, grandfather!" cried Dick pleadingly, "I think he told a story
because he didn't wish to get me into a row!"

That had not been Lionel's reason, but he held his peace. The actual
fact was he had feared to tell the truth lest his grandfather should
seek to discover the cause of his quarrel with Dick, when he knew
he would be blamed. Mrs. Compton looked from one to the other with a
puzzled expression.

"What could you boys have had to fall out about?" she said
plaintively, in the tone she usually adopted on the rare occasions
when she rebuked her children, "and so early in your acquaintance
too!"

"Oh, we shan't fall out again!" Dick told her earnestly. "I—I'm
awfully ashamed of myself, I am indeed! Do please forgive me
for hitting Lionel! He's not really hurt; but I'm afraid he won't be
able to wear his collar again before it has been washed! I hope
it was not a clean one!"

"Never mind that," Sir Richard broke in, a grim smile crossing his
face. "Your aunt and I won't press you to explain your quarrel, Dick!
I daresay the cause of it was not so very serious! Lionel, never tell
me a deliberate lie again, even to shield another!"

"I will not, grandfather," Lionel responded in a low, shamed voice,
hanging his head.

"Now, you children can run away and amuse yourselves till luncheon.
Don't get into mischief, and try to agree."

Sir Richard watched the three young figures thoughtfully as they
disappeared from sight around the corner of the house.

"I wonder what they could have quarrelled about, Arabella!"
he exclaimed; then, as his daughter shook her head, he gave a short
laugh, and added: "Dick has plenty of spirit! He is his father
over again! The idea of his striking a boy so much bigger than
himself! What do you think of your nephew, eh?"

"He seems a bright, attractive little fellow. I marvel more than ever
how his mother could have parted with him!"

"He appears very fond of her; and she has evidently brought him up
well."

Mrs. Compton was surprised to hear her father admit so much. She
hesitated a moment, then said,—

"I met a gentleman the other day who knew Richard and his wife
in India. He says she is a charming woman, and considers Richard
a fortunate man. I daresay she has improved since her marriage,
but she was always good-looking, was she not?"

"I never spoke to her but once in my life," Sir Richard returned
thoughtfully, "and then she appeared merely a shy, pretty
school-girl. I was not aware at that time that she would be my
daughter-in-law!"

"It was such a pity Richard did not look higher for a wife," Mrs.
Compton sighed, for she had been ambitious for her brother; "but,
after all, her relations are respectable people. I am sure Dr. Warren
is a clever man in his profession, and his sister looks very nice!"

She paused a trifle nervously, for she had never dared to speak
a word in favour of her sister-in-law's relations before; but Sir
Richard did not turn upon her in anger as she half feared he would;
on the contrary, he nodded his head approvingly, and, much to her
surprise, suggested that she should call on Miss Warren.

"I think it would be only polite, seeing Dick is living with her and
her brother," he said. "As things stand we ought to show them some
attention."

"Very well!" Mrs. Compton answered quietly, though she was much
amazed at the turn matters were taking.

Meanwhile, Lionel had changed his soiled collar for a clean one, and
had repaired to the yard at the back of the house, where he found
his sister and cousin watching the grooming of the pair of horses
Sir Richard drove in his carriage. Later, they climbed the steep
ladder which led to the hay loft, and sat down, each on a bundle
of sweet-smelling hay, to talk at their ease.

"It was awfully good of you to take all the blame of our shindy
on yourself," Lionel said to Dick, with real gratitude in his tone.
"I consider grandfather let us off easily; he seemed in a better
temper than he was at breakfast-time!"

"I wish you hadn't told him a lie!" Dick exclaimed, looking quite
distressed. "No wonder he was angry!"

"Oh, that's nothing!" Lionel answered airily. "Grandfather's always
glad to have something to be angry about! He's an awful temper!
It wasn't much of a lie any way!"

"But it's so wicked to tell lies," Dick objected, "and father says
a liar is generally a coward. I don't think you look a coward,
somehow!"

Lionel took the latter part of his cousin's sentence as a compliment.
There was an appearance of gratification on his face as he
replied,—

"I'm not a coward; but what's a fellow to do to get himself out of a
scrape? I wouldn't tell a lie to injure anyone; I wouldn't be so mean
as that!"

"Of course not!" exclaimed Ruth, who always stood by her brother.
"You don't know how nasty grandfather is when he's angry, Dick,
or you wouldn't think it wrong to tell him a little fib."

"Yes, I should!" Dick said quickly. "It's always wrong to tell
a fib—a fib is the same as a lie!"

"I suppose it is," Ruth allowed; "but let's talk of something else!"

"If it hadn't been for you, Dick, we should have gone down to the
beach to-day," Lionel said, gladly changing the conversation at his
sister's request; "but grandfather wished us to stay at home to see
you. It's fine by the sea; there's always something to amuse one,
and—"

"Oh, yes!" Dick broke in eagerly. "I love the sea! I'll tell you what
happened to me the other day!" and he gave them a graphic account
of his morning on the beach when he had had Nero for a companion, and
had fallen into the pool.

The others laughed heartily as they tried to picture the sorry figure
he must have cut as he walked up the village street in his wet
clothes.

"Who told you about the secret passage?" Lionel asked; for Dick
had informed them he had been searching for the entrance to it.

"Grandfather. How I should like to find it, shouldn't you?"

"Rather!" Lionel cried, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Rather!" echoed Ruth.

"Oh, pooh!" said her brother, turning upon her scornfully. "What do
you know about the secret passage; you are—"

"I know as much about it as you do!" she interrupted indignantly.

Lionel had no answer ready, so he inquired of Dick what Sir Richard
had said. It was no more than the elder boy knew already, when all
was told.

"I should not be surprised if there were great treasures hidden away
in that passage," Lionel remarked seriously. "I would give anything
to know! What do you say, Dick, shall we enter into a compact to try
and find the secret passage? and if we succeed we shall have every
right to share the treasures. Do you agree?"

"Oh, yes!" Dick exclaimed readily, his pale face glowing with
excitement. "Oh, what fun! When shall we begin to search?"

"I'll help!" Ruth interposed eagerly.

"You'll do no such thing," her brother told her. "You're a girl, and
you can't do anything to help us; you would only be in our way!"

Ruth looked grievously disappointed, for hitherto she had been her
brother's sole companion during their summer holidays, and it seemed
a little hard to be set aside for a newcomer. She pouted, and her
eyes filled with tears. Dick felt so sorry for her that he spoke on
her behalf, thereby earning her deep gratitude.

"Don't you think she might help us?" he asked Lionel. "There might be
something she could do!"

"Well," was the relenting reply, "we'll see! But mind, Ruth, you must
tell no one what we mean to do. Promise!"

"Oh, I promise! I promise!" Ruth cried delightedly.

"And you must do as we tell you," Lionel continued. "You mustn't want
to go your own way as you generally do!"

"All right; I won't!" the little girl responded, ready to agree
to anything.

"Now, we will all shake hands, and promise faithfully to stand by
each other, and to do our very best to find the secret passage."

This was accordingly done with great solemnity. Then the young people
put their heads together, and held a long discussion as to where and
how the search should commence. They had not decided these points
when they heard Susan Morecombe's voice calling to them to come and
prepare for luncheon; so they scrambled down the ladder, left the
stables, and went into the house by the back entrance.

Nero was stretched on the mat in front of the dining-room door. He
gave Dick a warm welcome, much to the surprise of Ruth and Lionel,
who were not on particularly cordial terms with him—the truth being
that they had played tricks on him the previous summer, and he had
too good a memory to forget their teasing ways.

Mrs. Compton was vexed during luncheon to see how her children
abstained from conversation when Dick was so ready to talk and answer
all her questions. Ruth and Lionel always showed at a disadvantage
before their grandfather. Their mother never realised that the fact
of her having brought them up to fear him was the cause of their
doing so. It surprised her to hear her little nephew expressing his
opinions; and she expected every moment that his grandfather would
turn upon him with some cutting remark which would wound his
feelings; but instead, Sir Richard encouraged the child to talk, and
seemed amused with his conversation.

After luncheon the children were again left to their own devices,
when they held another consultation as to the first steps to be taken
in their search for the secret passage. Lionel suggested that the
best plan would be to consult Granfer Cole, and obtain all the
information they could from him. He volunteered to call upon the old
man, and let Dick hear the result of his interview with him.

So it was arranged, much to the satisfaction of all three, and the
great delight of the younger boy.

"Mind, it's a secret," Lionel said impressively. "No one must know
what we mean to do!"

"All right!" Dick replied readily, filled with a sense of his own
importance.

So the children parted on the best of terms, and Dick returned
to No. 8 Fore Street in high spirits. He told his aunt and uncle
that he liked his cousins; but he refrained from mentioning the fact
that his acquaintance with them had commenced in rather a stormy
manner. He did not like to tell Dr. Warren and his sister that Lionel
had laughed at their names, and called the former a nobody; neither
did he confess that he had lost his temper and hit his cousin,
for that would have meant explaining the whole matter.

It was late before Dick fell asleep that night, his mind was so full
of the compact he had entered into with Ruth and Lionel to try and
find the secret passage. It was the first secret he had ever had to
keep; and long after Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus had retired
to their respective bedrooms Dick lay awake thinking of ways and
means to attain the end he and his cousins had in view, till at
length drowsiness overcame him, and he fell into a deep, dreamless
sleep.



CHAPTER XII

CONCERNING TWO AFTERNOON CALLS

WITHIN the course of a few days Mrs. Compton called at No. 8 Fore
Street. Her visit was so entirely unexpected by Miss Warren, that it
put that lady into a flutter of excitement. She was in the
sitting-room with Dick, who was employed in writing to his mother,
when she glanced out of the window and saw Sir Richard Gidley's
carriage draw up in front of the house.

"Dick!" she cried, "here's the carriage from the Manor House!
Dear me, it's Mrs. Compton! I suppose she wants to see you! Why,
she's getting out!"

The little boy ran to the open window. His aunt had just alighted;
she smiled and nodded to him, whilst he shouted with a glad note
of welcome in his clear voice,—

"I'm coming to open the door to you, Aunt Arabella!"

He darted from the room; and a minute later returned with
Mrs. Compton, who held out a hesitating hand to Miss Warren,
not being quite certain of the reception she would receive.

Miss Warren was slightly put out that Dick had not shown his aunt
into the drawing-room, but she greeted her visitor politely, if not
very cordially. She could not forget that this handsome,
fashionably-dressed lady had always ignored Dick's mother, so her
manner was tinged with reserve. But Mrs. Compton had come with the
laudable desire to be friendly; she took the comfortable easy-chair
to which her nephew led her, and explained that Lionel, who had gone
to the post-office on an errand for his grandfather, wanted his
cousin to join him for a walk.

"Oh, may I go, Aunt Mary Ann?" Dick asked.

"Certainly, my dear," Miss Warren answered, "you will have plenty
of time to finish your letter this evening. But don't be in such
a hurry! What will your aunt think of your manners if you rush off
the very minute of her arrival?"

"Oh, let him go!" Mrs. Compton said smiling. "I am sure he is longing
to be out-of-doors this beautiful weather, and Lionel wants
a companion!"

So Dick went off in search of his cousin, and presently the two boys
were seen walking up the village street side by side, in animated
conversation.

"What a bright little fellow Dick is," Mrs. Compton remarked, as soon
as she and Miss Warren were alone together. "He must keep you and
Dr. Warren from being dull!"

"Oh yes! We are so pleased to have him here! And he is getting better
and stronger every day! The poor child was very low-spirited when he
first arrived; he missed his parents, especially his mother, to whom
he is devoted, but he feels quite at home with us now, and is as
happy as the day is long. He has been writing to his mother,
as you see."

Mrs. Compton glanced at the table where Dick's writing materials were
scattered about; her eyes softened as they fell on the sheet
of notepaper, covered with writing in a laboured, childish hand,
which had been hastily flung aside in the excitement attending
her arrival.

"How his mother must miss him!" she exclaimed involuntarily. "I know
what I should feel if my children were parted from me! Oh, Miss
Warren, I am glad Dick is with you instead of at the Manor House!
My father regrets he did not have him there, but I am sure he is
better with you!"

Miss Warren flushed with pleasure, and presently, encouraged by her
visitor's evident wish to be friendly, she grew chatty and
communicative. Mrs. Compton listened with interest to all the details
she could learn about her brother and sister-in-law, and expressed
the hope that they would return to England the following year.

"It is so sad that my brother and I should know so little of one
another now-a-days," she sighed; "it has been a real trouble to me;
but you know what Sir Richard is—how hard and unforgiving! However,
he seems to have taken a great fancy to Dick, and I hope that in time
he will forgive my brother!"

"It must make him very miserable to be so unforgiving," Miss Warren
said thoughtfully; "I hope God will show him how wrong it is, before
it is too late for him to set things right. It has been a great grief
to my niece that she has been the cause of trouble between her
husband and his father, and I hope Dick will never learn the truth.
He is so deeply attached to his mother; he thinks there is no one
equal to her!"

"You brought her up from babyhood, did you not?"

"Yes. Her parents died when she was only a few months old, and she
had no one in the world to care for her but Theophilus and me. In my
opinion, your brother could have found no better wife, although she
brought him no money, and was only a country surgeon's adopted child!
There! I've spoken out, and told you what I think, and now my mind
will feel more at ease!"

There was a bright gleam in Miss Warren's dark eyes; she held her
head high, and her smooth cheeks were flushed rosy red. A brief
silence followed her little outburst, during which Mrs. Compton sat
with her gaze fastened on the ground; presently she glanced at her
companion, and said with a ring of sincerity in her voice,—

"I wish I had known you before, Miss Warren! I like you all the
better for speaking out!"

After that the ladies talked without reserve. Before Mrs. Compton
left she asked Miss Warren to return her call, but the invitation was
firmly though politely declined, and the reason frankly given—Miss
Warren would not enter the doors which were shut against her niece,
and she desired Sir Richard Gidley might be told so.

Meanwhile, Lionel and Dick were hurrying up the hill towards Granfer
Cole's cottage.

"I'm glad you could come," Lionel said cordially; "I thought it would
be better if we could go together."

"I hope we shall find Granfer Cole at home! Does Aunt Arabella know
where we're going?"

"No. There was no need to tell her, and she didn't ask. Ruth would
have been here, but she's in disgrace. All her own fault too, the
little silly! Grandfather caught her sliding down the bannisters
yesterday, and he was waxy and told her not to do it again, and she
promised faithfully she wouldn't! Just as we were starting this
afternoon, and only waiting for her, she must needs come sliding down
the bannisters at an awful rate, and there was grandfather in the
hall looking on! When she saw him she was so frightened that she gave
a great yell, and he ordered her to go back and spend the afternoon
in her bedroom, for punishment, for having disobeyed him! She cried,
but he didn't care; he was in a dreadful temper, and called her a
hoyden, and said one of these days she would break her neck! I don't
think she will; she's pretty careful!"

"Do you think she forgot she'd promised not to do it again?" Dick
enquired, feeling extremely sorry for the little girl's
disappointment.

"I don't know, I'm sure. Perhaps she did," Lionel replied, though in
his heart he believed to the contrary. "It's rather rough on her,"
he continued, "for she made up her mind to go with us this afternoon,
but we're just as well without her—girls are so fussy and full
of chatter!"

They were within sight of Granfer Cole's cottage by this time, and
paused, warm and breathless—for they had been walking at a great
rate—to look back the way they had come. Before their eyes lay the
village of Holton, with a vast stretch of blue sea beyond. An
excursion boat laden with passengers was steaming up the channel, not
so far from land but that the boys could distinguish movements on
board; and a schooner, with sails unfurled to catch the fresh breeze,
was making for the nearest port, towed by a pilot-boat; whilst far in 
the distance, against the horizon, a fleet of trawlers caught the
sunlight against their red-brown sails. Around the cliffs seagulls
hovered, their wings gleaming like silver, now soaring upwards, now
dipping into the unruffled bosom of the ocean.

"Isn't it a grand view from here?" Lionel exclaimed admiringly. "Has
there been a storm since you've been in Holton?"

"No," Dick replied. "I came in June, and the weather has been very
fine, except for a few wet days—the sea was not rough even then."

"Last year there was a terrible storm whilst we were staying at the
Manor House," Lionel told his cousin; "we did not go back to London
until the end of September, and a few days before we left the weather
was dreadful. The sea dashed against the cliffs in great waves like
high walls of water, and you could hear it miles away—a sort of
muffled roar. Fortunately the fishermen knew bad weather was coming,
so they were all safe at home; but sometimes there are fearful wrecks
off this coast, so I've heard grandfather say. He remembers several."

They proceeded up the hill, talking of storms and shipwrecks till
they came upon Granfer Cole seated in the porch of his cottage, where
he spent most of his days in warm weather. He looked up eagerly at
their approach, but did not move until Lionel spoke to him, when he
recognised the boy's voice immediately, and rising, invited his
visitors to come in; but they declined entering the cottage, saying
it was pleasanter outside.

"Do you remember me?" Dick asked, as he and Lionel sat down on one
of the benches in the porch, and Granfer Cole reseated himself on the
other.

"Surely!" the old man responded, smiling. "You are Captain Gidley's
son. Ah, young gentlemen, my ears have to do double duty now my
sight's so bad! I can always recognise a voice I've once heard!
My hearing is sharper than it ever was! I've much to be thankful
for!"

"We're here to consult you upon a very important matter," Lionel
said, coming to the point at once. "My cousin and I have made up
our minds to find that secret passage you know about."

Granfer Cole chuckled, and wagged his head from side to side as if
much amused, but made no reply.

"How would you advise us to begin the search?" Lionel asked
anxiously.

"I wouldn't advise you to search at all," the old man answered. "Do
you fancy you'll succeed where others have failed? The entrance
to the secret passage by the sea-shore was lost years ago. Think how
the cliffs have fallen and crumbled away during the last half century
only!"

The boys' countenances clouded, and they both looked grievously
disappointed.

"There may be valuable treasures hidden in that passage!" Lionel
cried regretfully.

"There may be," Granfer Cole allowed, "but I never heard tell of 'em.
A few casks of brandy, and bundles of silks, and dress goods which
would be rotten by now would be about the extent of what you'd find
there, I reckon!"

"Sometimes one hears of jewels and money hidden away in places like
that," Lionel said; "we mean to find the secret passage if we
possibly can! I am sorry you cannot tell us anything that would
assist us in our search. Are you sure your father never hinted to you
where the passage was?"

"Quite sure, sir. I mind when I was a little chap hearing him tell
tales of the smugglers; but he died when I was only eight years old.
My memory of him is faint after so long. He was a cautious man, was
my father; and perhaps he had reason to be, for I've often thought he
must have had something to do with smuggling himself, he knew so much
about it and how it was managed. He certainly used to tell of a
secret passage; but he never let on where it was."

"What a pity!" cried Dick. "I wonder why he didn't tell you all
about it? It is so very strange that no one should know where it is!"

"They who did know, most of them came to violent deaths," Granfer
Cole said, lowering his voice to a mysterious whisper; "there was a
fight on the sea-shore one night with the custom-house officers, and
the smugglers preferred to fight to the death rather than be taken
prisoners. They were desperate men, these smugglers!"

"Did the custom-house officers know about the secret passage?" Lionel
inquired.

"They might have known there was such a place, but not where it was!"

After that the conversation veered into another channel. Granfer Cole
was a most interesting person to talk to, he knew so much about
boating, and fishing, and the wonders of the sea. He entertained
his visitors with stories of all the wrecks he remembered; and being
fond of recounting the experiences of his youth, he was delighted
to find two such attentive listeners. Like most men of his class,
accustomed to see God's wonders in the deep, he possessed a firm
faith in the great Creator, and was a simple-hearted, pious soul,
who had never doubted the wisdom and goodness of Him in whom he
trusted. He was fond of assuring people he had much to be thankful
for, and was perfectly contented and happy in the peaceful evening
of his days.

"What a lot you remember!" Lionel exclaimed, after Granfer Cole had
come to the end of a story about the capturing of a whale not a mile
from land. "It is marvellous you should have such a memory!"

"I sit here and think of all the people I've known during my long
life, and all the wonderful adventures I've had, and the sights
I've seen," the old man said, turning his almost sightless eyes upon
the boys. "I can picture the sun rising above the sea in the rosy sky
as I've watched it many and many a time; and then I think how the
grandest sight here on earth is not to be compared to what we shall
see in the presence of God!"

There was a great solemnity on the aged face which filled the boys
with a sense of awe. It, was Dick who replied, his animated face
all aglow as he said,—

"I wonder if you're thinking of a verse in the Bible which Uncle
Theophilus said to me the other day? 'Eye hath not seen nor ear
heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which
God hath prepared for them that love Him.' Were you thinking
of that?"

"Yes, sir, I was. Thank you for repeating it. I'd 'most forgotten
how it went, but I shall mind it now."

There was a little further conversation, then the boys took leave
of the old man, and retraced their footsteps down the hill.

"We've done no good by going to see him," Lionel said in disappointed
tones; "we have only wasted our time. He knows no more about the
secret passage than we do! Still, it was fun hearing him talk,
wasn't it?"

"Yes," Dick agreed. "I think he's a splendid old fellow! I'm glad
I remembered that verse, because he was so pleased, wasn't he? I must
tell Uncle Theophilus!"

"Is Dr. Warren religious?" Lionel asked. "I don't like religious
people, they're so dull and melancholy."

"I'm sure Uncle Theophilus isn't," Dick retorted. "He isn't quite
so lively as father; but then he's older. You don't know how jolly
he is; I expect, if you did, you'd wish you had an uncle like him!"

"Come to the Manor House to-morrow, if you can," Lionel said, as he
parted from his cousin outside No. 8 Fore Street; "I've got something
to show you—something Ruth and I found yesterday amongst a heap
of rubbish in one of the shut-up rooms!"

"What is it?" Dick asked curiously.

But that Lionel declined to tell. He went on his way whistling
softly, his hands deep in his trousers' pockets, his cap on the back
of his head, leaving uncovered the crop of fair curls which clustered
around his forehead. Dick gazed after him as he swung down the street
with a care-for-nothing air, and thought what a very nice boy he was.
He liked him better than he had done at first, and admired him
because he looked so capable of taking care of himself, and was so
apparently brave and strong. Then, when his cousin was out of sight,
he entered the house to find Aunt Mary Ann in high good-humour,
having been most agreeably impressed with her late visitor.



CHAPTER XIII

THE OLD BLUNDERBUSS

"SO Miss Warren declines to return your call?" Sir Richard Gidley
said, turning his frowning gaze upon his daughter, who, engaged upon
some fancy-work, was seated opposite to him by the open dining-room
window at the Manor House.

It was the afternoon subsequent to the one when Mrs. Compton had paid
her visit at No. 8 Fore Street, and Dick was upstairs with his
cousins, having arrived just before luncheon.

"Yes, she declined most decidedly," Mrs. Compton responded somewhat
nervously.

"Why?" demanded Sir Richard. "You are keeping something back! What
reason did she give for refusing to return your call?"

"She said she would not visit at a house, the doors of which were
shut against her niece—Dick's mother. Really, I do not see how
she could, when one comes to think of it! I am vexed I asked her!
She seems such a very nice woman, and I am sure it is most fortunate
she and Dr. Warren were willing to make a home for Dick! He was
writing to his mother when I arrived yesterday—Miss Warren says
he is devoted to her! It is to be hoped, father, he will never learn
the cause of the trouble between you and Richard!"

Mrs. Compton had spoken with unusual boldness. Now she paused
apprehensively, expecting a burst of passion from her companion,
but she was agreeably disappointed. Venturing to glance at him,
she saw he was looking decidedly disturbed; he was, in fact,
remembering that he had told Dick his son had offended him, and he
had never forgiven him. How foolish and thoughtless he must have been
to have said it!

A sudden burst of merriment from upstairs was heard at that moment;
and Mrs. Compton became uneasy.

"The children are very noisy," she said, rising hastily; "I will go
and tell them to be quieter."

"Nonsense!" Sir Richard exclaimed. "Let them be! Pray don't fuss,
Arabella!"

Poor Mrs. Compton, who had been only anxious that her father should
not be disturbed or irritated, sat down again, and proceeded with her
work in silence. The sounds of laughter upstairs continued, Ruth's
shrill treble mingling with the boys' deeper voices.

"I wonder what they are doing," said Sir Richard, a slight smile
curving his stern lips; "shall we go and see?"

She agreed, though a trifle uneasily; and they accordingly went
upstairs together.

The children were at the top of the house, where they had been
ransacking the disused rooms. Lionel had shown Dick the "something"
he and his sister had found, which proved to be a short old-fashioned
gun with a large bore—like a cannon, as Dick said; and now they
were in the midst of a most entrancing game of their own invention.
Ruth, who had donned a faded yellow satin gown, which she had found
amongst a lot of other garments in a big chest, was being hauled,
shrieking and laughing, around the room by her brother, whilst Dick,
armed with the short gun, was pretending to fire upon the little
girl's assailant.

A sudden hush fell upon the young people as soon as they realised
there was an audience to their game. Lionel dropped his hold of Ruth,
allowing her to fall in a panting heap upon the floor, whilst Dick,
still clasping his weapon, ran towards his aunt and grandfather.

"Oh!" he cried excitedly, "we're having such fun! Ruth's a grand lady
going to a party, and I'm her coachman! Lionel's a highwayman—he's
stopped our carriage, and demanded all Ruth's money and jewels! He's
going to lock her up in a dungeon, and I'm trying to shoot him with
this gun! Oh, Aunt Arabella! Oh, grandfather! You can't think what a
jolly game it is, and we've made it up ourselves!"

"I'm afraid our coming has put a stop to it," Sir Richard remarked,
his eyes resting kindly on Dick's countenance, which was flushed rosy
red. He glanced from him to his other grandson, who was keeping in
the background, and wondered why the elder boy always appeared struck
dumb in his presence. "Why don't you go on with your game?"
he continued; "it seems vastly exciting! Ruth could not have shrieked
louder if she had actually been in the grasp of a highwayman!"

The little girl tried to rise, but her flowing skirts impeded her.
It was Sir Richard who lifted her from the ground and set her on her
feet. She thanked him in a low tone, looking shyly up into his face,
but reading nothing except amusement there, she ventured a timid
smile.

"I'm afraid I was making a dreadful noise, grandfather," she said
apologetically. "Did you hear me screaming downstairs? I hope I did
not disturb you!"

"No, no!" he replied with unusual good-humour. "Your mother and I
thought we should like to see what you children were doing! What have
you there, Dick? Why it's my grandfather's old blunderbuss!"

Dick passed the weapon to Sir Richard, who examined it carefully,
saying that he had not seen it for years.

"We found it under a heap of rubbish," Ruth explained. "Lionel
polished the barrel and made it look nice and bright!"

"What a clumsy gun it is," Mrs. Compton remarked. "I suppose the
children can do no harm with it, father?" she asked anxiously, with a
woman's nervousness of fire-arms.

"Oh, no!" he replied reassuringly. "There can be no mistake as to
whether it's loaded or not. It is a muzzle-loader—there were no
such things as breech-loaders when this gun was made." And he
proceeded to point out to the boys—Lionel having drawn near too,
full of interest—how the weapon worked, explaining how it ought
to be loaded, and the powder and shot rammed down with the ramrod,
and fired by means of a flint-lock—the spark of fire being produced
by the flint striking on the steel pan.

"What a time it must take to load it!" Dick exclaimed. "In father's
guns you have only to put in the cartridges!"

"Ah, this old blunderbuss is very different to modern guns," Sir
Richard said, "but it served the purpose for which it was required;
it was used by my grandfather as a protection against highwaymen when
he went a journey by coach, and even if he paid a friendly visit to a
neighbour in his own carriage, the blunderbuss went too! Those good
old days, as people call them, had their disadvantages! It's all very
well to play being captured by a highwayman, Ruth, but how would you
like it in reality?"

"Not at all," she responded frankly. "Lionel is rough enough, but I
expect a highwayman would be rougher. I believe my arms are quite
bruised; still, I don't mind. It was a splendid game!"

"How hot you are, my dear!" Mrs. Compton exclaimed; "your cheeks are
perfectly crimson! No wonder you are so warm, with that heavy satin
gown over all your other clothing. Where did you get it?"

Ruth indicated the old chest in a corner of the room. The children
had turned out all its contents, which now lay in a big heap on the
floor. Some of the garments were moth-eaten—all were faded and
time-worn. Mrs. Compton began to replace them in the chest, whilst
Ruth helped her.

Sir Richard continued to converse with the boys. He told them several
anecdotes of the days when the blunderbuss had been in use, and made
himself quite entertaining.

Seated on a rickety chair with the old gun across his knees, he waxed
eloquent over a story of how his grandfather had been waylaid by
highwaymen when journeying from Exeter, and how he, with the
assistance of his coachman and postillion, had put the robbers to
flight, and had reached home in safety.

"Oh, please go on!" Dick cried, when the old man paused. "We want to
hear more! Were the highwaymen ever caught?"

"One was, I believe, and gibbetted. He was the last man in this
neighbourhood who suffered death in that way. I remember seeing the
gibbet myself, when I was a boy; it stood at the cross-roads at the
top of the village, but was blown down during a December storm,
and converted into fire-wood."

"What was it like?" Dick inquired.

"It was a sort of gallows with a wooden arm projecting from the top.
Notorious evil-doers used to be suspended from that arm by chains, in
sight of passers-by, and allowed to hang there until only their bones
remained. It was a horrible mode of punishing crime."

Dick shuddered. He thought he would never pass the cross-roads again
without picturing the gibbet with its awful burden.

"I am glad there are no gibbets now-a-days," he said. "I think the
people living about here must have been very wicked, grandfather,
so many of them seem to have been smugglers and highwaymen!"

"I do not think they were worse here than in other places," Sir
Richard replied seriously. "People ought to live better lives at the
present day than they did in those times, for they have not the
excuse of ignorance for their misdeeds; they are taught to know right
from wrong, and even the very poorest are made to learn to read and
write. I suppose no one would be misguided enough to argue now that
smuggling and highway robbery are not crimes."

"I am very, very glad I did not live years ago," Dick said
reflectively, at which remark Lionel laughed, and Sir Richard looked
amused.

When their elders left them, as they did a short while later,
the children did not continue their interrupted game, but began
to remark on their grandfather's change of mood.

"Whatever makes grandfather in such a good temper to-day!" Ruth
exclaimed. She had divested herself of her borrowed finery, and sat
on a table swinging her legs as she talked to the boys. "Why can't he
always be like that, I wonder! Fancy his coming up here with mother!"

"Yes," chimed in Lionel; "and the idea of his telling us that story
about the highwaymen! I never knew him so agreeable before. I say,
Dick, I should like to have a shot with this old blunderbuss—
shouldn't you? I believe I could load it all right."

"Yes; so could I."

"We might have a pot at the rabbits with it," Lionel continued. "Only
mother would be scared if she heard us. She's so silly about guns.
We should have to take it a good way from the house."

"But we haven't any powder or shot," Ruth reminded him.

"I can get some," her brother told her. "I'll go into Holton and find
out where I can buy some; or perhaps I can get around Groves—he's
so good-natured—and induce him to give me a little. I don't suppose
grandfather keeps any, now he's given up shooting; anyway,
I shouldn't ask him. I've heard mother say he used to be a very good
shot," he informed Dick.

"So's father," Dick declared. "Once he shot a tiger—a man-eater,
too! He's supposed to be one of the best shots in the
regiment—every one says so!"

"It's a pity he isn't here to kill some of the rabbits," Lionel said
seriously. "Groves says they're a regular nuisance. The farmers
grumble terribly about them. Grandfather's an awfully queer sort,
I think. His property is simply over-run with game. He won't let the
shooting; he won't shoot himself; and he won't let any one else kill
anything. Pheasants are as plentiful as blackbirds in the woods. I am
sure they must get poached, and I don't wonder. Groves says there are
heaps of game everywhere."

"I know there are heaps of rabbits," Ruth said. "I counted more than
a dozen from my bedroom window, yesterday."

"Rabbits are not game—they are vermin," her brother informed her.
He never lost an opportunity of correcting her if he possibly could.
"You don't believe it? You thought only rats and mice were vermin?
Oh, you little ignoramus! If you won't take my word for it, go and
ask mother or grandfather!"

"I will," Ruth cried, utterly unbelieving, and she rushed from the
room.

"Now she's gone, we can talk in peace," Lionel said to his cousin
confidentially. "I mean to fire off that old blunderbuss as soon as
ever I get an opportunity."

"Wouldn't it be rather dangerous?" asked Dick, who knew enough about
guns to make him cautious with them. "We ought to know how much
powder and shot to use—grandfather didn't say. I wonder if the
blunderbuss kicks?"

"I never heard of a gun kicking!" Lionel exclaimed, for he really
knew much less about fire-arms than the younger boy.

Dick explained what he meant. Lionel had not known before that some
guns recoiled after being fired. He regretted having admitted his
ignorance, but he said confidently,—

"Oh, we'll be careful! If it kicks we can tie it to a tree and fire
it off like a cannon; we could make a fuse of powder reaching to the
lock, set fire to it, and we should have time to go a good distance
away before the gun went off."

"So we should," Dick agreed. "But don't you think we'd better ask
grandfather to lend us the blunderbuss?"

"No, no; certainly not," Lionel replied hastily. "If we do that,
Ruth is sure to hear what we're up to, and she'll come bothering
and wanting to interfere!'

"But she heard us talking about it!"

"She'll think no more of that. I know what she is. No, we won't tell
any one about it. You leave the matter to me. I'll get the shot and
gunpowder somehow, and we'll have a fine lark together."

Dick was delighted with the idea, and readily fell in with his
cousin's plans, agreeing willingly to keep silence upon the subject.
It was arranged that the elder boy was to let the younger know when
he had obtained the ammunition, after which they would slip away
to the woods together without Ruth's being the wiser. Dick did not
realise that it was in reality Mrs. Compton and Sir Richard
Lionel was most anxious to keep in the dark; and though he thought
it a little hard on Ruth that she should be denied the pleasure of
hearing the gun go off, he came to the conclusion that of course
her brother must know best. As Lionel said, what did girls know about
guns. She would be far better out of the way.

When Ruth returned, she looked crestfallen, having discovered that
her brother had not been trying to sell her a packet, but had told
her the truth. She eyed the boys suspiciously, and demanded to be
informed what they had been talking about during her absence.

"I believe you're up to some mischief," she declared; "do tell me
what it is. You may as well. Is it anything to do with the secret
passage?"

"Oh, no!" Dick replied quickly.

"Then what is it? Some nonsense or other! I see you don't mean
to tell me! You're nasty, disagreeable boys, both of you!" And she
flounced out of the room again, slamming the door after her.

"She's huffy now," Lionel remarked tranquilly. "She's awfully
quick-tempered, but she never stops in a passion long."

Dick made no reply; he had an uneasy sense that they were not
treating Ruth quite fairly. It certainly appeared unjust that she
should not be in their confidence simply because she was a girl.
He had seen the hurt tears in Ruth's blue eyes; but Lionel's
influence over him was daily becoming stronger, and he allowed him
to have his way.



CHAPTER XIV

IN QUEST OF AMMUNITION

THE Gidleys had always been keen sportsmen; and the present owner
of the Manor House had been noted, in former years, as one of the
best shots in the county. There were fire-arms of all sorts
decorating the walls of the hall, hanging side by side with swords
of a bygone date, which Lionel had been strictly commanded never
to touch; he had never done so, though he had often cast longing eyes
upon them; consequently, he had been delighted at the finding of the
old blunderbuss, and additionally pleased when his grandfather had
not forbidden its being used as a plaything.

The boy was extremely thoughtful and quiet on the morning after Sir
Richard's unexpected interruption of the game in the disused room,
so that Ruth, who understood her brother's ways perfectly, knew there
was something weighing upon his mind. She was devoured with curiosity
to find out what it was, but at the same time, she was quite aware
it would be useless to question him. However, she kept a watchful eye
on him during the morning, greatly to his annoyance; but she could
not follow him about all day, especially as her mother invited her
to drive to a neighbouring town, to do some shopping in the
afternoon—a pleasure which she could not refuse. At the last
moment, when the carriage was at the door, Sir Richard decided
to accompany them, so Lionel was left to his own devices.

His first act on being alone was to repair to the study. It was a
dingy room with heavy mahogany furniture, upholstered in a dull shade
of green; the walls were lined with book-cases containing old
volumes, mostly covered in leather; no one ever read them, for Sir
Richard was not of a studious disposition. A writing-table occupied a
prominent position in front of the window. On this table a few rusty
pens, a sheet of blotting paper almost unsoiled, and a handful of
bills were scattered, whilst the ink in the inkstand—fashioned
in the shape of a fox's head in bronze—had become clotted.

From the writing-table Lionel's eyes travelled to an old oak bureau,
placed across one corner of the room; he tried the drawers, but much
to his disappointment, found them all locked.

"Bother!" he exclaimed aloud, irritably; "what shall I do now? It's
just possible grandfather may have some powder and shot in one of
these drawers. I wish I knew where he keeps his keys!"

Lionel was perfectly aware he had no right to pry into any place
which was locked nevertheless, when his roving glance caught sight
of a bunch of keys on the mantel-piece, he seized them at once, and
tried if he could find one to fit the lock of the top drawer of the
bureau. Some were too large, others were too small, but at length
he found one that fitted the lock exactly, and in another moment
the drawer was open. He was disappointed with its contents, which
comprised a tangle of fishing lines, a book containing hooks and
flies, a few floats, and a ball of whip-cord. The key fitted all the
drawers, so he opened them in succession; but it was not until he
came to the last that his hopes of finding what he was searching for
went up with a bound.

"At last!" he exclaimed exultantly.

The drawer was full of ammunition. There were boxes of cartridges;
but those Lionel turned aside, whilst his eager fingers grasped a
flask, which proved on examination to contain gunpowder. On searching
a little further, at the back of the drawer, he discovered a bag full
of shot. This was a find indeed! He had taken possession of these
treasures, and was about to shut and lock the drawer, when some one,
who had quietly entered the room unnoticed by him, touched him on the
shoulder. He started violently, and could not repress a slight
shriek.

"What are you doing here, Master Lionel?" asked a well-known voice,
in tones of mingled astonishment and reproof.

"Nothing!" he answered shortly, relieved to find that it was Susan
Morecombe, and not his grandfather, who had come upon him unawares.

"Nothing!" the woman repeated, her eyes resting upon the bag of shot
and flask of gunpowder which Lionel still grasped. "Oh, Master
Lionel, how can you tell me such a big story as that!"

"I mean I'm doing nothing wrong," he amended, flushing hotly.
"I—I—the truth is, I want a little ammunition to fire off my toy
cannon—it's like a real cannon, you know, but only a few inches
long—and I thought grandfather would not mind if I took some?"

"Have you Sir Richard's permission to help yourself," she asked,
looking at him sharply.

"Well—no!" he admitted with reluctance.

"Then you must put back that bag and flask, sir. You must, indeed!
I cannot allow you to take them. Do you mean to say you helped
yourself to Sir Richard's keys and searched these drawers? Oh, how
could you do it? What would Sir Richard say if he knew—or your
mother?"

With a sigh, for he realised all his trouble had been in vain, Lionel
replaced the articles he had taken from the drawer, and shut it,
turning the key in the lock. He looked sullen, and though his face
was crimson, it was more with anger at having been foiled than from
any sense of shame.

"Are you going to sneak on me, Susan?" he asked, thinking he had
better ascertain her intentions upon that point.

The woman hesitated. She had no desire to get the boy into trouble;
but at the same time she was indignant at his dishonourable conduct,
and doubted his tale about the toy cannon.

"It is a serious matter to take keys belonging to another, and open
locked drawers," she said gravely, "and I believe it is my duty
to inform Sir Richard."

"Oh, Susan!" Lionel cried earnestly, thoroughly alarmed. "Don't tell
him! He'll be so awfully angry!"

"You should have thought of that before, Master Lionel," she reminded
him.

"I know I should! Oh, please don't tell him! Think what a fearful row
you will get me into!"

"I want to do what is right," Susan said, her kind face full of
distress. "I cannot imagine, Master Lionel, how you could have come
here and pried into those locked drawers! Then you were going to take
away that flask of gunpowder and bag of shot without asking leave!
You knew well enough Sir Richard would have refused them to you!
You have behaved very badly!"

Lionel was silent, thinking what the consequences would be if Susan
betrayed him. He did not fear his mother's anger—that he could face
unabashed—but he did fear his grandfather's.

"I believe it is my duty to inform Sir Richard," Susan said again.

"Oh, don't tell him, please don't!" Lionel pleaded.

"Tell mother if you like, but not grandfather, won't it do if you
tell mother?"

Susan considered the matter, and finally decided that if she told
Mrs. Compton she would relieve herself from all sense
of responsibility.

"Very well, Master Lionel," she said. "I will tell your mother what
you've been up to this afternoon, and she can do as she pleases about
informing your grandfather of your conduct."

Lionel heaved a sigh of deep relief, and thanked her, feeling for the
moment quite grateful. She gave him a well-meant lecture, pointing
out to him in what a dishonourable way he had behaved; but though he
thought it wise to listen to all she had to say, he was not in the
least impressed. Susan watched him replace the bunch of keys on the
mantel-piece, then she followed him from the room.

He took his hat and went out of the front door, raging against Susan
Morecombe in his heart for having balked his plans; his sense of
gratitude to her was lost in the thought that, but for her, he would
have had the ammunition he wanted.

Through the gardens he went into the grounds beyond; but instead of
following the carriage drive to across the park to the sloping woods
which spread to the hill above the village of Holton. It was cool and
pleasant beneath the shade of the trees and Lionel was hot with anger
against Susan. He sat down on a large moss-covered stone under the
spreading branches of a big oak, and thought how foolish he had been
not to lock the study door against intruders. A bright-eyed squirrel
on a bough overhead peeped down at him inquisitively; and a rabbit,
at a little distance, seated on its haunches, solemnly washed its
face with its forepaws regardless of his presence.

He had been there some time when he heard footsteps approaching; some
one was pushing his way through the bracken and undergrowth—a lanky
youth of about eighteen, clad in fustian, with a greasy cap upon his
unkempt head. He was closely followed by a dog—a lean,
hungry-looking animal of the lurcher breed. Lionel recognised the
slouching, ungainly figure as that of Bill Coysh, who was regarded in
Holton as a ne'er-do-weel, because he apparently never did anything
for a living. It was popularly supposed that he was a poacher, and
all the gamekeepers in the neighbourhood looked upon him with great
suspicion, though no direct charge had ever been brought against him.
Now, when he came upon Lionel perched upon the stone, he paused
irresolutely, glancing back to see that the dog was at his heels.

"Hulloa!" cried Lionel. "What are you doing here?"

"No harm, sir!" was the quick reply, whilst the lanky individual
touched his cap, and looked sideways at his interrogator.

"If a gamekeeper saw you, he might think you were doing a bit
of poaching, especially as you've got that dog with you!" Lionel told
him.

"What, sir? Poaching? And because I've got Spring with me? Bless you,
sir, Spring wouldn't look at a rabbit if one passed in front of his
nose!"

This was such an evident piece of bounce, that Lionel burst into a
loud laugh. Bill Coysh's wide mouth was distorted into a grin; and he
met the other's glance with a broad wink.

"I say," said Lionel, his face brightening as a sudden thought
crossed his mind, "have you got a gun?"

"Maybe," was the cautious response, "but what's that to you, sir?
I an't shot anything belonging to you, have I?"

"No, no! I daresay you've had some of my grandfather's game, though!
Oh, it doesn't matter to me if you have or not! What I want to know
is whether your gun is a breech-loader or a muzzle-loader?"

Bill Coysh looked extremely surprised at this question. He opened
his eyes and his mouth too, but he made no reply.

"Because if it's a breech-loader, of course you fire it with
cartridges," Lionel proceeded; "but if it's a muzzle-loader I thought
you might possibly keep a stock of powder and shot, and I wondered if
you'd feel inclined to sell me some!"

A crafty expression crossed Bill Coysh's face upon hearing this, and
a particularly shrewd gleam came into the small gray eyes, which, set
near together, close to his nose, were not pleasant to look into.

"My gun's a breech-loader," he said slowly.

"Oh, what a pity!" exclaimed Lionel in much disappointment,
his countenance falling perceptibly.

"But that's not to say I don't keep a small stock o' powder and
shot," the other continued. "What's to prevent my filling my
cartridges myself, eh? I might be able to supply them as is ready
to pay for what they require!" —and the lanky youth grinned broadly
again.

"Oh, of course I will pay you if you will supply me with some
ammunition!" Lionel cried eagerly.

"What do you want it for?" Bill Coysh questioned. "I can't let you
get me into trouble, you know!"

"Oh, no, no! I wouldn't do that for the world! If you'll let me have
what I want no one shall ever know where I got it! I promise that
faithfully! Besides, I'm not going to do any harm! I want the powder
and shot to fire off a gun, and if you'll sell me some I'll pay you
well. Look here!" —and Lionel drew half-a-crown from his pocket.

Bill Coysh looked at the coin, then he shook his head decidedly.

"Half-a-crown's not enough!" he declared contemptuously, "but if you
care to fork out five shillings, I'll bring you enough powder and
shot to fire off your gun half-a-dozen times or more!"

"That will do capitally!" said Lionel, whilst his companion regretted
he had not asked for a larger sum. "Can you meet me here with the
ammunition this evening, about seven o'clock?"

"Money to be paid in advance, sir?"

"No!" Lionel replied, after a moment's consideration, during which he
reflected that that would not be wisdom on his part, seeing he had no
guarantee for his companion's good faith; "no—half-a-crown now, and
the rest when we meet this evening!"

"Very well," Bill Coysh agreed, accepting the proferred coin. "You're
a sharp un, you are! I suppose you think I might run word, but I
won't! I'll play fair, sir!"

"See you do!" Lionel retorted good-humouredly.

"And you'll never let on where you got the powder and shot?" the
other questioned.

"No, certainly not; and I won't tell Sir Richard you were prowling
about the woods with a lurcher! Mind you're here this evening about
seven! We'd better not stay talking now, for if a gamekeeper came
along—"

"He might think you weren't keeping good company!" Bill Coysh broke
in with a harsh laugh, as he turned away and motioned to the dog
to follow him. The intelligent brute, who had been trained
to understand and obey the slightest sign, fell behind his master,
close to his heels, and silently followed him out of sight.

Lionel went back to the Manor House much elated; and not until he was
informed that the driving party had returned, and his mother desired
to see him in her own room, did a damper fall upon his spirits.

He found his mother much distressed by the tale she had heard from
Susan Morecombe.

"Oh, Lionel, how could you have acted in such a dishonourable way!"
she cried reproachfully. "What were you going to do with the powder
and shot?" Then, as he remained silent, she continued: "I am thankful
Susan found you out! You are not thinking of firing off that old
blunderbuss, are you? If that was your idea, I forbid you to do it!
You know how nervous I am of fire-arms!"

"I put back what I took," Lionel said sulkily.

"So Susan said! Are you not ashamed of your conduct? I believe if
your grandfather knew about it, he would give you a sound thrashing!
I wonder how it is you have so little sense of honour!"

Poor Mrs. Compton, who had been in the habit of scolding her children
so frequently that they had grown to take little notice of her words,
and had never punished them in her life, looked at her son with
reproachful eyes. She was realising how little influence she had over
him, and wondering why it was.

"I am very sorry, mother," he said, and he spoke the truth as far as
being sorry for her evident distress went, for he was really fond
of her, though she was too indulgent with him to command
his obedience. "I promise never to pry into anything belonging
to grandfather again!"

She gave a sigh of relief, for far stronger than her sorrow for her
son's conduct was her fear of her father's anger. It never crossed
her mind that Lionel would try to obtain the articles he had
endeavoured in vain to get from the bureau in the study from another
source; so after a few more reproaches, to which he listened without
making a remark, she sent him away with his offence condoned as far
as she was concerned.



CHAPTER XV

LIONEL'S CRUEL SPEECH

THE next occasion on which Dick spent a few hours at the Manor House,
he was informed by Lionel that they could fire off the old
blunderbuss as soon as ever there was a suitable opportunity, for the
necessary ammunition had been procured, and was at the present moment
hidden away in one of the disused rooms. The boys were alone together
in the hall when Lionel imparted this information to his cousin.

"We'll try to slip away quietly to the woods by ourselves presently,"
Lionel said, carefully lowering his voice to a whisper for fear
of being overheard, "and soon find out if the old gun's fit
for anything. Mother's going for a drive, and she'll take Ruth with
her; and grandfather's having his afternoon nap in the dining-room,
so there'll be no one to interfere with us!"

Whilst he was speaking his mother and sister descended the wide
staircase. The former smiled upon Dick, and gave him an affectionate
kiss; she was moving away when a sudden thought struck her, and she
paused as she was going out of the front door followed by her little
daughter, and said impressively:—

"Remember what I told you about that old blunderbuss, Lionel! Ruth
tells me you really spoke of firing it! Understand, I forbid you
to attempt to do so. Where is it now?"

"Upstairs," Lionel answered shortly.

"That's right. I dislike fire-arms for playthings even when I know
they are unloaded; that toy cannon of yours always makes me shudder!"

She nodded to the boys, and a few minutes later she and Ruth were
driven away.

Dick had listened to his aunt's parting words with dismay and
disappointment; he now turned a very serious countenance towards his
cousin.

"What a pity!" he exclaimed.

"It's all Ruth's fault!" Lionel cried vindictively. "She's such
a chatterbox, and repeats everything she hears! She hasn't found out
that I've got the powder and shot, thank goodness! We'll fire off the
blunderbuss in spite of her!"

"But Aunt Arabella said we were not to!" Dick objected, amazed that
his cousin should contemplate such an act of deliberate disobedience,
for he had been taught himself that to obey those set in authority
over him was his plain duty in life.

"I know she said so," Lionel acknowledged with a frown, "but I mean
to do as I like. We'll take the blunderbuss a long distance from the
house, far away into the woods, and mother will never know whether
we've been firing it or not!"

"Oh, Lionel! you don't mean it—you can't! It would be awfully
wrong! And if she doesn't know we've disobeyed her, God will! Oh, you
don't mean to be so wicked as that!"

"You miserable little coward!" Lionel cried irately. "What a funk
you're in! Now it's coming to the point you're afraid to fire off the
blunderbuss, I suppose!"

"No, I'm not," Dick replied, his eyes flashing angrily at this taunt;
"but I'm not going to disobey Aunt Arabella. I won't go with
you—there! I know what father would say about it!"

"Oh, do you? What, then?"

"That it's our duty to obey Aunt Arabella! I'm certain he'd think so!
Father says the first lesson a soldier has to learn is to obey, and
I'm going to be a soldier when I'm a man! I'm not a miserable little
coward, and I dare you to say it!"

Dick was vastly indignant. As usual when deeply moved he had turned
very pale.

Lionel glanced at him doubtfully, longing to box his ears soundly,
and "put the youngster in his place," as he mentally expressed it;
but he remembered the first occasion on which he and his cousin had
met, and recalled the swift blow which had proved to him far more
effectually than any words would have done, that Dick had a temper
which it was unwise to rouse. Except for that one disagreement, the
boys had been excellent friends until this moment, simply because
Lionel had refrained from disparaging those Dick loved, and Dick had
allowed him to take the lead in every way. Now it was a question of
right and wrong, the younger boy refused to be led. He never for a
moment hesitated, but flatly declined to join in an act of
disobedience.

"Do you really mean you won't help me fire off the blunderbuss after
all the trouble I've taken to get the powder and shot?" inquired
Lionel, putting a curb upon his temper, and affecting a reproachful
tone. "I declare it's too bad of you!"

"I can't help it," Dick responded; "I'm very sorry."

"You're not!"

"I am! I am indeed! Oh, Lionel, do say you won't—"

"But I will!" Lionel interrupted angrily. "Mother's no right to spoil
our fun! She treats me like a baby!"

"I can't think how you can want to fire off the blunderbuss after
what she said! I know if my mother—"

"Your mother!" Lionel cried, rudely interrupting again. "You think
a lot of her, don't you? Your mother, indeed! You're about the only
one in this house who thinks anything of her. Grandfather hates her!
That's why he's angry with your father—because he married your
mother! So, there!"

For a moment Dick's face expressed nothing but blank amazement, then
the colour rushed to his cheeks in a flood of crimson, and dying
away, left him ghastly pale. The two boys looked at each other,
the elder triumphant, the younger with a great horror slowly creeping
into his eyes. Neither spoke, and neither noticed that the
dining-room door had opened, and Sir Richard was watching them.
The old man had heard every word of Lionel's last speech, and knew
that the boys must have been quarrelling. Perhaps, never until he had
heard his sentiments towards his son's wife so plainly stated—
"Grandfather hates her! That's why he's angry with your
father—because he married your mother!" —did he realise in what
an unfavourable light his unforgiving spirit must appear to others.
Strange as it may seem, he was not angry with Lionel for blurting out
the truth; perhaps he recognised that a spirit of vindictiveness very
like his own had animated the cruel speech. As he slowly stepped
towards the boys, they suddenly became aware of his presence. Lionel
slunk out of the hall by way of the front door without a word; and
Dick, after one shrinking glance at his grandfather, sped wildly
upstairs.

Sir Richard followed the small flying figure, which in another
instant was out of sight; but the old man heard the heavy door
leading to the picture-gallery open and shut, and knew where the
fugitive had fled. The little boy, hiding in the darkest corner
of the picture-gallery, heard Sir Richard's slow footsteps pause
momentarily outside the door, and hoped they would proceed further.
He did not want to face his grandfather when his heart was bursting
with mingled pain and indignation; but there was no help for it,
he must do so, for Sir Richard had entered, and was peering about
in search of him.

"Dick," he said anxiously, "Dick, where are you?"

"Here," Dick answered, from the distant corner where he was crouching
behind an old velvet settee. He was not crying, but he felt as though
he had been struck a blow which had stunned him. He turned a white
face with a pair of miserable eyes towards Sir Richard as he
approached.

"Dick, don't look like that!" Sir Richard said, with an unusually
gentle intonation in his voice. "Lionel had no right to speak as he
did of—of your mother. He said it to anger you. Think no more
of it."

"Wasn't it true?" Dick asked, his countenance brightening; then,
as his grandfather hesitated to reply, he continued in a broken,
hopeless tone: "Yes, I know it's true! And that's why father never
spoke of you! That's why I couldn't understand! Oh, it's
dreadful—dreadful! Oh, how can you be so wicked as to hate mother!
Oh, mother! mother!" —and the little boy sobbed aloud.

"Don't, child, don't!" Sir Richard exclaimed. He was strangely moved
by the intensity of Dick's grief and despair. "Don't, don't!" he said
again.

Dick raised his head and looked at him suddenly with an ominous flash
in his tearful eyes, whilst he slowly came out of the corner, and
stood in front of his grandfather—a small forlorn figure with a
stern, set face.

"I'm going," he said, "and I'm never coming to see you again.
She—she said I was to treat you with respect, and I can't—not now
I know you hate her! I am very sorry, because I—I liked you—
rather—I didn't at first, you know, because I thought you were
cross and disagreeable; but you've been kind to me. I'm never coming
here again—I'll stay at home with Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle
Theophilus—they love her—and I wish I'd never seen you, or the
Manor House, or Lionel!"

"Stop, stop!" interposed Sir Richard hastily. He saw the child was
trembling with passion, and deep in his heart he sympathised with
him, and admired him for his plain speaking. "Don't be hasty, Dick!
There are many things little boys can't understand about their
elders!"

"Why do you hate her?" Dick enquired suddenly, his accusing eyes
still fixed on his grandfather's face. "There's no one like mother,
no one! Father says so too! He ought to know! Oh, why did they ever
send me to England away from them both!"

"I—I hardly knew your mother," Sir Richard said, "and—and I have
little doubt now that she is all you say. Did you ever hear me speak
a word against her?"

"No," the little boy acknowledged. "You couldn't," he added quickly,
"not without you said what wasn't true, and I don't think you tell
stories—I know you don't!"

Sir Richard literally gasped with astonishment at this very plain
speaking; but he was anxious to be at peace with the child, and
proceeded:—

"You see, Dick, your father's marriage was a disappointment
to me—you are too young to understand why—and I was naturally
offended with him. I said I should never forgive him, but I should
like to be friendly with him again, and let bygones be bygones. Now,
I'm sure you'll try to forget what Lionel said, and come to the Manor
House as usual?"

"No," said Dick stubbornly, "because I should always be thinking
of how you hate mother!"

"Nonsense, my boy, I don't hate your mother now!" The words were out
almost before Sir Richard was aware he had said them, so eager was he
that Dick's frequent visits should not cease. "I think she must be a
good woman if her son loves her so well," he continued, speaking
gruffly to hide deep feeling, "and she has taught you to be honest
and truth-loving—a gentleman at heart!"

Dick flushed, and a slight tremulous smile played around his mouth,
whilst the hard, stern expression which had looked so out of place
on his young face, disappeared altogether.

"There is no one like mother!" he said again. It was his favourite
formula when speaking of her. "If you are sure, quite sure that you
don't hate her, I will come to the Manor House as often as you like;
and I shall know it is not true if Lionel says it again!"

"What were you quarrelling about?" Sir Richard enquired, with a
return of his old, sharp manner.

"I would rather not say," Dick responded firmly; "please don't ask
me, because I don't mean to tell!"

His grandfather did not press the question, supposing they had
disagreed upon some unimportant matter. He turned the conversation
into another channel; and seated on the faded velvet settee beyond
which Dick had hidden, he watched the little boy draw the curtain
back from Paul Gidley's picture.

"He was a soldier too, wasn't he?" Dick said softly, as he stood
looking up into the martyr's face. "Uncle Theophilus says he was a
soldier of Christ. He fought the good fight of faith; and a man must
be very brave to do that!"

The mellow August sunshine fell upon the pale, calm countenance of
the young monk, and upon the uplifted face of the boy; once again
Sir Richard was struck by the likeness between the two.

"Dick," he said suddenly, "come here!"

Dick let the curtain fall before the picture, and returned to his
grandfather, regarding him with questioning brown eyes.

"I'm getting an old man, Dick," Sir Richard said gravely. "I wish
your father was coming home before next year! Since he went to India
I've neglected the property; I've had no heart to see to things;
but when he comes back he shall do as he likes here!"

"Then I expect he'll begin by shooting the rabbits," Dick replied
seriously; "Groves says they're a great nuisance, but I rather like
to see them about!"

Sir Richard laughed, whilst Dick continued to regard him with great
gravity.

"Well?" the old man said. "There is a question in your eyes, Dick!
What is it?"

"Don't be angry," Dick responded, "but I should like to
know—something."

"Well?"

"I should like to know, if you hated mother, why you've changed
your mind! Did God show you it was wrong?"

"Yes," Sir Richard replied briefly; and his little interrogator
was quite satisfied.

Dick was very subdued during the remainder of his visit that day.
When the time came for him to return to No. 8 Fore Street,
Mrs. Compton and Ruth had been home for more than an hour; but Lionel
had not reappeared upon the scene. Dick wondered if he had gone away
to fire off the blunderbuss, or if he was ashamed to face him after
the way he had spoken of his mother.

Ruth accompanied her cousin as far as the lodge gates, and then went
back to the Manor House whilst Dick turned towards Holton. His way
led through lanes which lay between rich pasture-lands where feathery
meadow-sweet grew in the lush hedgerows, scenting the air with its
heavy perfume. The sun was setting like a ball of fire behind the
hills, promising a hot day on the morrow, and over all hung the hush
of coming night.

Dick had been much upset that day, and he had started from the Manor
House depressed in spirits; but he had not gone far before the peace
and beauty of the early autumn evening stole into his heart; and he
fell to thinking of next year, when he hoped his parents would be
coming home. He dwelt on the joy of his reunion with them, and forgot
the passionate pain which had filled his heart at the thought of his
grandfather's hatred for his mother. Then he looked up at a turn in
the lane, and saw Aunt Mary Ann coming to meet him with a welcoming
smile upon her happy face, and he quickened his pace to a run,
crying,—

"Oh, Aunt Mary Ann, how good of you to come to meet me! Oh, I have
such a lot to tell you!" —and he poured into her attentive ears
the story of his interview with his grandfather in the
picture-gallery subsequent to Lionel's cruel speech.



CHAPTER XVI.

LIONEL'S ACCIDENT

MISS Warren was so overcome when she found that Dick had learnt the
cause of the ill-feeling between his father and grandfather that the
pretty colour left her cheeks, and she sat down on a moss-covered
bank beneath a hazel-bush by the hedge-side, whilst the tears ran
down her face. "Oh, my dear," she cried, "what a wicked, cruel boy
your cousin must be to deliberately wound you like that! I am glad
Sir Richard heard what he said, though—very glad! It does people
good to hear the truth about themselves sometimes!"

"But grandfather doesn't hate mother, he doesn't indeed!" Dick
interposed eagerly. "He seemed so sorry Lionel spoke like that!
I think he is very lonely and unhappy. He wishes father was coming
home sooner than next year, and he said he should like bygones to be
bygones. What did he mean, Aunt Mary Ann?"

"Did he really say that?" Miss Warren asked, greatly astonished.
"Then he must mean to forgive your father for—for—Oh, Dick,
it's no good our trying to keep it from you any longer? It was your
father's marriage that offended Sir Richard!"

"Won't you tell me about it?" Dick said coaxingly, his face
expressive of mingled anxiety and curiosity.

"Perhaps I had better try to make you understand," Miss Warren
replied with a sigh. "It was ten years ago, and Sir Richard was
abroad in Egypt—he often wintered abroad in those days. Your father
had leave, and came down to the Manor House for a few weeks' shooting
and hunting. He met your mother, they grew to love each other, and
one day he came and told your Uncle Theophilus she had promised to be
his wife. Your Uncle Theophilus gave his consent to the match,
providing Sir Richard did the same. Well, Dick, your father wanted
to be married at once, because his regiment had been ordered
on foreign service, and, of course, he wished to take your mother
with him. He wrote to Sir Richard, but no answer came—afterwards
we learnt the letter had been delayed in the post through the
negligence of an official. Your father said he should take silence
for consent, and pointed out to us that if the marriage did not take
place then, our niece would have to go out to him to India to be
married. We did not like that idea at all, and so, Dick, your dear
parents were married; and later—a few days after they had
sailed—your Uncle Theophilus received a letter from Sir Richard
saying he would never give his consent to his son marrying
our niece."

Miss Warren paused. She had no intention of telling Dick all his
grandfather had said in that letter; although the words had been
written so long ago, the remembrance of them made her angry still.
She proceeded:—

"Your Uncle Theophilus wrote and told Sir Richard the marriage had
taken place; and when your grandfather came home in the spring,
he gave us to understand that he never meant to have anything to do
with your mother."

"Why not?" Dick questioned in amazement.

"My dear, your grandfather considered she was beneath his son
in position!"

"Oh, Aunt Mary Ann, I wish you could have heard how he spoke
of mother this afternoon! He didn't say much; but he was very nice
about her—he was indeed! He said he didn't hate her now God has
shown him how wrong it was!"

"It gives me great pleasure to hear it," Miss Warren said, a trifle
dubiously. "No one would be more glad than your dear mother if your
father and grandfather were on good terms again, and I am sure,
judging from the conversation I had with Mrs. Compton the other day,
that she would be pleased. Dear me! I wonder what Theophilus
will think!"

She rose as she spoke, and they proceeded homewards, Dick asking
dozens of questions which Miss Warren found some difficulty
in answering, for she did not like to tell him that Sir Richard's
pride had been at the root of his dislike to his son's marriage.
He had felt that his heir should have looked above a country
surgeon's adopted niece in choosing a wife. Dick, who realised how
good and loving his mother was, and had been taught by her to respect
all who were honourable and true-hearted, whatever their station in
life might be, would have faint sympathy with his grandfather's
pride, Miss Warren knew; and she felt, with a thrill of deep joy
and satisfaction, that the boy was happier at No. 8 Fore Street than
he would ever have been at the Manor House; and in her heart she
prayed that God would keep his soul so unspotted from the world that
he would be always able to judge people apart from their surroundings
and belongings.

The village street was empty as Miss Warren and her nephew turned
into it; and the shops were shut with the exception of the
post-office, which had to be kept open till half-past eight.
Miss Tidy was peering disconsolately over the wire blind; her queer
little face brightened perceptibly as Miss Warren and Dick came
in sight, but clouded again as they passed by—she had hoped they
might have had an errand at the post-office, so that the monotony
of the evening would have been broken.

"Look, Aunt Mary Ann!" cried Dick, as they reached their own door.
"What a lot of people! All coming this way too!"

Miss Warren glanced hastily up the street in the direction indicated.
Not a person had been in sight a few moments before; but now quite
a small crowd had appeared around the bend of the hill above the
village. She immediately concluded something had happened, and sent
Dick into the house to ascertain if her brother was in, whilst she
stood on the doorstep waiting.

The crowd, mostly composed of village children, with a few of their
elders, drew nearer and nearer.

Upon seeing Miss Warren, a man hurried forward, and enquired eagerly
if Dr. Warren was at home.

"Yes," the doctor answered for himself, as he appeared with Dick.
"Am I wanted? What is it? An accident?"

"Yes, sir! Master Compton has been found in the woods above the
village, insensible, and Bill Coysh—'twas he who found him—says
he's been shot, he thinks! They're bringing him here because it's so
far to the Manor House!"

Dr. Warren turned to his sister and gave her some whispered
directions; then he told Dick to go into the sitting-room, and wait
there. The little boy obeyed reluctantly.

He was pale and trembling in every limb, and very frightened, for he
did not doubt but that Lionel had met with some accident
in connection with firing off the blunderbuss. Looking out of the
window, he watched the crowd draw up in front of the house, and
recognised Lionel's figure stretched out on a hurdle carried by four
stalwart villagers. He could not see his cousin's face, for it was
covered with a pocket-handkerchief; he shuddered as the idea
presented itself to his mind that the unfortunate boy might be
already dead.

Only a short while before Dick had been full of bitterness and
resentment against Lionel, but now his naturally sympathetic heart
could find no room for any sentiment but pity. He knew from the
sounds in the house that Lionel was being carried upstairs; then
someone went to the front door and asked the crowd to disperse;
and soon only one or two lingerers remained.

After that everything was very still for a long time. Dick was
beginning to fear he had been forgotten altogether, when he heard
light footsteps coming downstairs, and in another instant Miss
Warren, looking pale and scared, entered the room. The little boy
rushed to her and began asking for particulars of Lionel's accident.
Had he really been shot? Was he much hurt?

"He's living, and that's all I can tell you yet," she replied,
shaking her head sadly. "He has been badly shot in the right thigh,
and has lost a lot of blood. How it happened I have not heard, and
Lionel is perfectly unconscious still. Your Uncle Theophilus has
extracted some of the shots, and has dressed the wounds—I am
thankful he was at home to see to the poor boy at once! Oh dear, this
is a bad business, I fear!"

"Oh, what will Aunt Arabella say!" Dick cried distressfully. "Oh,
poor, poor Lionel!"

"We have sent a message to the Manor House to let them know there
what has happened," Miss Warren said, her bright eyes full of tears.
"I expect Mrs. Compton will be here directly! Poor woman! It will be
a terrible shock for her!"

When Mrs. Compton arrived a little later, in company with her father,
she insisted upon at once going upstairs to see Lionel. Sir Richard
joined Dick in the sitting-room, and listened in silence to the
rather incoherent story the little boy told him.

"I'm afraid he is dreadfully hurt," Dick said in conclusion. "Oh, I
do hope he won't die! It would be so awful, especially after Aunt
Arabella telling us—"

He paused abruptly, mindful that his grandfather knew nothing
of Lionel's intentions with regard to the blunderbuss.

"What did she tell you?" Sir Richard asked sternly, noticing the
uneasy look on Dick's telltale countenance. "Come, speak out!"

"She-she said we were not to fire off the blunderbuss," Dick replied,
coming to the conclusion that everything would be discovered, and
therefore he could not help his cousin by keeping silence. "That was
what we quarrelled about this afternoon. I had promised to help
Lionel, but when Aunt Arabella said that, I told him I wouldn't go
to the woods with him to fire off the blunderbuss without her
knowing, and he was angry with me, and so—and so—"

"And so he went by himself, I conclude!" Sir Richard exclaimed,
frowning.

"I don't know, but I expect he did!" Dick responded in a low tone,
looking deeply distressed.

"Unhappy boy!" groaned the old man. "He is indeed severely punished
for his disobedience! God grant his life may be spared for his
mother's sake!"

"Here comes Uncle Theophilus!" Dick cried, as he heard the doctor's
slow footsteps descending the stairs. He ran to the door, and went
into the hall to meet him, followed by his grandfather.

"How is he?" asked Sir Richard somewhat nervously, as he shook hands
with Dr. Warren. "Not seriously injured, I trust?"

"Seriously, but not necessarily fatally," was the grave reply. "We
must hope for the best. He has been badly shot in the thigh, and is
very weak from loss of blood; he will be ill for many weeks even if
all goes well."

"There is danger?" Sir Richard questioned, whilst Dick listened with
breathless anxiety.

"There is always danger from gunshot wounds," the doctor answered.
"It would not be right for me to hide the fact that he is very
seriously ill, but I am hopeful that I may be able to save his leg,
and that he will recover."

"Do you mean it may be necessary to amputate his leg?" Sir Richard
said in a tone of horror, whilst Dick shuddered at the thought.

"It may be necessary, but I hope not. Mrs. Compton will remain here
to nurse her son, and to-morrow we can get a trained nurse to assist.
It was very fortunate the boy was brought here, for much valuable
time would have been lost if he had been taken to the Manor House.
I need hardly tell you, Sir Richard, that I shall do my best
for him!"

"As you do for all your patients," Sir Richard said, with unexpected
cordiality. "But having Lionel in the house will upset your domestic
arrangements, I fear! What does Miss Warren say?"

"The same as I do—that it was providential the poor lad was brought
here. Don't look so frightened, Dick! Why, you are trembling like a
leaf!" —and Dr. Warren laid his big gentle hand on the little boy's
shoulder, and smiled as he met the gaze of the troubled dark eyes.

"Oh, Uncle Theophilus, will he die?" breathed Dick with a painful
sob. "Oh, I hope God won't let him die!"

"I hope not!" was the fervent reply.

For a few minutes there was silence, save for the ticking of the tall
clock. Dick raised his eyes to its face, and watched the ship in full
sail rocking to and fro; then Sir Richard remarked that as he could
do no good there, he should go home. He was profuse in his thanks to
the doctor, who saw him into his carriage, and said he would send
early in the morning for news of Lionel, adding that he hoped Dick
would come to the Manor House on the morrow, and try to comfort Ruth,
who was in terrible distress about her brother.

As the carriage disappeared from sight, a slouching figure, followed
by a lurcher, approached the doctor and Dick, and requested to know
if the young gentleman was dead.

"No, no," Dr. Warren replied, "he is badly hurt, but I have hopes
of his recovery. Why, it was you who found him, was it not?"

Bill Coysh—for it was he—nodded assent, and was turning away,
when the doctor asked him if he had any idea how the accident
happened. At first he declared he knew nothing about it; but, seeing
he was not believed, he wavered in his statement, and finally
acknowledged that he had been with Lionel when he was shot.

After his quarrel with Dick, Lionel had slipped out of the house, and
returning a little later, had fetched the blunderbuss and ammunition,
armed with which he had gone off to the woods in search of a suitable
place for putting his plans into execution. He had found a secluded
spot in a fir plantation, situated at the top of the hill above the
village, where he had met Bill Coysh, and there had proceeded to load
the blunderbuss according to his grandfather's directions; after
which he had tied the gun securely to a tree with a stout piece of
rope, and making a squib of gunpowder, had lit it and applied it to
the touch-hole, so firing the charge.

"'Twas exactly like letting off a cannon," Bill Coysh said; "I never
heard such a report from any gun before. Master Compton fired it
several times, and then he agreed to let me do it. I shall never
forget it, never! He went a little distance away to hear what the
sound was like further off; and I suppose I took longer than he
expected, and he was coming to see what I was doing, for just as I'd
lit the squib, he came right in a line with the gun, and the next
thing I knew was he'd been shot, and was lying groaning, looking like
death. It wasn't my fault! I wouldn't have injured him for anything!
I ran to him, and asked him if he was hurt, but he didn't answer, and
then I saw he'd fainted, and I went to get help. There, I've told the
truth, doctor, and if I'm had up for murder—" He broke off,
shuddering at the thought, then added:— "If Master Compton lives,
he'll tell you the same tale!"

There was a genuine ring of truth in Bill Coysh's voice which Dr.
Warren was quick to notice. Dick enquired what had become of the
blunderbuss, and was told it was still attached to the tree in the
fir plantation. It was found there the next day by the village
policeman, who had serious thoughts whether he ought not to arrest
Bill Coysh. But by that time Lionel had recovered consciousness, and
was able to say that Bill had told the truth about his accident;
no one was to blame but himself, he solemnly declared. He confessed
everything to his mother, the sight of her pale tear-stained face
awakening remorse and repentance in his wayward heart; needless
to say he had no difficulty in obtaining her forgiveness.

[Illustration: "'Twas exactly like letting off a cannon."]

But Lionel had to suffer from the consequences of his sin during the
weary weeks which followed, when, racked with pain and fever, he lay
upon his sick-bed with plenty of time for reflection. How he
regretted the many occasions when he had disobeyed the mother who
nursed him with such untiring care! He felt he had never loved her
half enough, and hoped God would spare his life that he might try to
make amends to her for his wilfulness in the past.



CHAPTER XVII

THE STORM

LIONEL did not lose his leg as Dr. Warren had at first feared he
would; nevertheless, six weeks elapsed before he was sufficiently
recovered to be moved from No. 8 Fore Street; but during the latter
half of that period he was well enough to receive visitors, and to
take a lively interest in all that went on around him. Ruth came and
wept over her brother, and would not be satisfied until he had
explained to her exactly how his accident had happened; after which
she expressed surprise that he had not been killed outright. "I don't
know what I should have done if your leg had had to be cut off," she
told him in tragic tones; "think how dreadful it would be if you were
obliged to wear a cork leg, or a wooden one with a peg in it! Really,
Lionel, you were very foolish to get in the way of the blunderbuss!"

"I know, I know!" Lionel answered, flushing. "It was all my fault,
but you needn't remind a fellow of it!"

"Well, I won't again," she said, as she gave him an affectionate hug;
"I only said what I thought!"

Then Sir Richard came to see his sick grandson—not the old
sarcastic Sir Richard before whom Lionel would have been stricken
dumb, but a more sympathetic person altogether, who refrained from
remarking upon the disobedience which had led to Lionel's accident,
judging that his sufferings had been sufficient punishment.

Lionel learnt much as he lay on his bed of sickness, waited on by his
mother and Miss Warren, with the assistance of a trained nurse. He
grew to like and respect Dick's Aunt Mary Ann, and to feel ashamed
that he had ever laughed at her or her kindly brother, whose visits
he looked forward to as the happiest moments during the long, tedious
days. Then Dick was nearly always at hand—Dick, who, when offered
a faltering apology for the manner in which his mother had been
spoken of, said he forgave his cousin freely, and would hear no more
upon the subject. It was little wonder that the invalid felt he was
treated better than he deserved.

The end of October was drawing near when Lionel was removed from the
shelter of the doctor's roof to his grandfather's home. Mrs. Compton
had accepted her father's invitation to stay at the Manor House till
after Christmas, for there was no question of Lionel's returning to
school for the autumn term; and Ruth was delighted at the thought of
such a long holiday.

The cold weather was tardy in coming that year. Although it was late
autumn, the days were still mild and sunny; and Dick did not realise
that summer had passed, and winter was close at hand. He found the
golden autumn days very pleasant, and he and Ruth spent many long
hours in the woods gathering blackberries and hazel nuts; watching
the squirrels chattering in the branches overhead; and playing
hide-and-seek. On the whole, they agreed very well, though sometimes
they had differences of opinion when Ruth claimed her right of
freedom of thought, although she was a girl, as she would say
defiantly.

Dick was perfectly contented and happy at that period of his life;
he was daily growing to like his grandfather better, and to recognise
the many sterling qualities hidden beneath his cloak of pride; and he
was receiving cheerful letters from his parents, in one of which his
mother remarked that Sir Richard had written most kindly and
affectionately about him. How joyful Dick was when he read his
mother's loving words,—

"It nearly broke our hearts to part with you, my darling, but we can
see now that all has been for the best. Sir Richard writes that he is
well pleased with you, and that you have brought sunshine into his
life—it makes your father and me very happy to hear that. We value
your letters so much! Ah, you never guess, I am sure, how often we
read them, and talk of our dear boy!"

"Not more often than I think of them, and read their letters!" Dick
cried one Sunday evening, a few days after Lionel had been removed
to the Manor House, as he sat in the drawing-room at No. 8 Fore
Street, reading his mother's letter again and again, whilst Aunt
Mary Ann at the piano played her favourite chants, and Uncle
Theophilus indulged in an idle hour. "Next year will soon be here
now, won't it, Uncle Theophilus? Fancy! I have been in England more
than four months!"

"Does it seem a great while?" Dr. Warren asked, his eyes resting
thoughtfully on his little nephew's animated countenance, which had
rounded into the curves of health.

"Oh, yes!—at least, in some ways! I miss Lionel and Aunt Arabella,
don't you? Last Sunday night you, Lionel, and I had a talk together,
don't you remember?"

The doctor nodded. Dick gazed earnestly into the glowing embers
in the grate. The weather was wet and stormy; occasionally the wind
clapped against the windows as though it would break them in, and
shook the house. On such a night a good fire was cheering and
comfortable.

"I believe we are going to have a severe gale," Dr. Warren remarked;
"the wind has veered to the east, and I fancied I heard the sea
roaring just now. We feel an easterly wind on this coast."

Miss Warren ceased playing whilst they all listened. The rain was
descending in torrents, whilst the wind rose in gusts, and howled
like a creature in distress; but above the wind and rain the sound
of the waves as they dashed upon the shore and beat against the foot
of the cliffs was distinctly heard.

"Poor sailors!" sighed Miss Warren sympathetically. "God help them
to-night!"

She struck a few chords on the piano, and began to sing the hymn,
"For those in peril on the sea," in a voice which had once been a
fine soprano, and, though rather quavering now, was still sweet in
tone. Her brother joined in his deep bass, and Dick hummed the tune
when he could not quite remember the words.

"Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
O hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea."

When the hymn was concluded, the doctor rose from his chair, and,
going to the window, pulled back the blind and looked out. As he did
so, a light from the direction of the sea gleamed for a moment
through the darkness, and a report like the firing of a gun was
heard. Miss Warren turned around quickly on the piano stool, and
exchanged a glance of dismay with her brother.

"What is it? What is it? What is that noise?" Dick cried.

"There is a vessel in distress, and the crew is trying to draw
attention to the fact by burning coloured lights and firing guns,"
Dr. Warren said, as he hurried into the hall, and hastily pulled on
his overcoat. "I am going down to the beach, Mary Ann, to see if I
can be of any assistance!"

"Oh, Theophilus, take care of yourself!" she exclaimed, as he opened
the front door and was lost from sight in the blackness of the night.

Dick ran upstairs to ascertain if anything was to be seen from his
bedroom window, but all was in darkness over the sea now. On opening
the window he found the rain had ceased, though the wind was higher
than ever. He strained his ears to listen, but heard no more guns
fired. Presently Miss Warren joined him, remarking that the servants
had asked if they might go down to the beach, and had started off
immediately on receiving her permission.

"Oh, let us go too!" Dick pleaded. "Oh, Aunt Mary Ann, do say yes!
See, it has stopped raining—it has, indeed! The wind won't hurt us
a bit! Oh, do let us go!"

At first Miss Warren would not hear of it; but she was curious and
anxious to know what was wrong, and finally consented to lock up the
house and follow the other members of the household to the beach.

Miss Warren in a waterproof, with the hood over her head, and Dick in
a thick overcoat, were suitably clad to face the weather. The rain
had cleared temporarily, so they had only the wind to combat with
as they hurried hand in hand down the village street. Not until they
reached the beach did they realise the full fury of the gale; then it
was as much as they could do to keep their feet.

The villagers were standing about in groups, straining their eyes
in their vain endeavours to pierce the darkness; the men, for the
most part, were quiet, but the women talked fast and excitedly,
whilst the children clung to their mothers' skirts, some in tears,
others awed into silence.

"I wonder where Theophilus is?" Miss Warren murmured anxiously.
"I wonder if any one has seen him?"

"Are you speaking of the doctor, ma'am?" said a woman's voice.
"He was here a few minutes ago! I heard him asking for volunteers!"

"Volunteers! What do you mean?" gasped Miss Warren, her heart sinking
with dread at the thought of what she knew she was going to hear.

"There's a ship on the Pope's Nose," the same voice replied,
"a coasting vessel—a schooner they say. She struck about an hour
ago, and she'll not be long in breaking up, I'm thinking! The ship's
boat has landed some of the crew in safety, but the captain and the
mate are still aboard, and I heard Dr. Warren just now asking for
volunteers to go with him to fetch them off!"

The Pope's Nose was a reef of rocks jutting into the sea, invisible
at high water, which was regarded by the fishermen as one of the most
dangerous on that coast. Miss Warren clasped Dick's hand tightly; she
knew her brother well, and was certain he would not hesitate to face
danger or death, if by doing so there was the faintest hope of his
saving human lives; but she trembled exceedingly, and her lips
refused to utter a word. Suddenly some one else spoke to her.

"Oh, Miss Warren, is it you? Oh, dear, dear, dear!" ejaculated Miss
Tidy's voice, full of lamentation and tears.

"Why do you speak like that?" Miss Warren questioned in strange,
husky tones.

"The doctor's rowed off to the wreck along with John Haydon, and Jim
Cole, and—"

"The doctor knows his duty as well as my grandson knows his," broke
in a quavering voice which Dick recognised immediately as Granfer
Cole's. "What's the good of going on in that foolish way and
upsetting folks, Miss Tidy? You'd better far be praying to God
A'mighty to help the brave souls, than stand there wringing your
hands like a heathen, as though there was not One above! You've maybe
forgotten Him as rebuked the wind and the raging of the water on the
sea o' Galilee!"

"You are right, Granfer," Miss Warren said, her spirits rising
hopefully at the old man's words; "but oh, it is a terrible storm!
I cannot make out anything in the darkness! How long will it take
to reach the Pope's Nose, if all goes well?"

"Half-an-hour," the old man answered, "that's making allowances for
the weather, and the difficulty of rowing in such a sea!"

"And another half-hour to get back!" cried Miss Tidy. "Here comes the
rain again!"

It fell in a down-pour, but Miss Warren had no thought of returning
home now. She stood by Granfer Cole's side with Dick clinging to her.
Her lips moved in prayer. "God help them! God help them!" she
murmured, whilst the little boy echoed her words, with a terrible
dread in his heart that the roaring sea, which seemed to him then
like a wild animal greedy for prey, would never give back Uncle
Theophilus to them again.

Although the Pope's Nose was not far from shore, it was impossible
to see anything of the vessel upon the rocks; the lights alone had
indicated the spot where she was stranded. The wild east wind blew
inland in angry gusts, whilst the waves rose like great walls of foam
before they broke, and rushed hissing up the beach. Truly, it was an
awful storm; and nothing could be done but wait patiently for the
rescuing boat, and pray for her safe return.

The time dragged slowly on; half-an-hour passed—an hour. Every
voice on the beach was silent now. At length, when waiting was
becoming simply agony, a mighty cheer rose from the expectant crowd,
as borne on the crest of a huge wave, the boat with its precious load
of rescuers and saved reached the shore; and a dozen or more pairs of
willing hands helped to drag her high and dry, out of the reach of
the incoming tide.

There was a clamour of voices; eager questions; tears, sobs; and
in the midst of the intense excitement Dick and his aunt somehow
understood that the brave men who had gone out to the wreck had
returned in safety, bringing the captain and the mate of the schooner
with them.

An hour later the beach was deserted. The shipwrecked crew was safely
housed at the village inn; and the doctor, with his sister and Dick,
were discussing the events of the evening over the supper-table.

How proud Dick was of his uncle! He could not help watching him with
admiring eyes, and wondering what Ruth and Lionel would say when they
heard the story of the wreck. He meant to go to the Manor House the
first thing in the morning, after breakfast, and hoped no one would
be before him in telling the tale.

Miss Warren looked pale after the excitement and anxiety she had
undergone, and was far less talkative than usual, so that it would
have been a very quiet supper-table but for Dick, who kept up an
incessant flow of conversation with his uncle.

"Fancy Granfer Cole being on the beach in such dreadful weather!"
the little boy exclaimed. "I should have thought he would have been
afraid to come out-of-doors!"

"Was he there?" Dr. Warren said. "Ah, he is an old salt, and minds
neither wind nor rain."

"By the way, one of his grandsons was the first to answer to my call
for volunteers—a fine fellow he is too, and as strong as a young
lion! He must be a lad after Granfer's own heart, I feel sure."

"I believe the storm is abating," Miss Warren remarked after
listening a minute, whilst a look of relief crossed her face. "I am
so glad! Do you think the wreck will break up during the night,
Theophilus?"

"Very likely, I should say. I have seldom seen a worse storm—they
must have felt it badly even at the Manor House, where it is
comparatively sheltered, but I much doubt if they know anything about
the wreck. You are making a very poor supper, Dick!"

"I can't eat much to-night, Uncle Theophilus! I'm not hungry!"

"Excitement has taken away your appetite, I suppose!"

"Yes, Aunt Mary Ann and I were so dreadfully afraid that you would be
drowned?" Dick confessed. "I was never so frightened before!"

"Ah, I have not scolded you and your aunt for coming down to the
beach," Dr. Warren said reprovingly, "and I don't think I shall now.
I am glad I did not know you were there, though!"

"Uncle Theophilus!" cried Dick, "you are one of the bravest men
I know!"

"Oh, come now, my boy, I cannot allow you to so openly flatter me,"
the doctor expostulated with a smile. Then, seeing how serious Dick
was, he added gravely, "I only did my duty, no man should do less
than that. 'The Eternal Father, strong to save' was with us all
to-night!"

"He was indeed!" Miss Warren agreed softly.

As for Dick, he rose from his chair, went around the table to
Dr. Warren's side, and flung his arms around his neck.

"You are brave, Uncle Theophilus!" he cried, "and I feel so proud
of you, and so glad that I sort of belong to you, you know!"



CHAPTER XVIII

THE MORNING AFTER THE STORM

NOT often was the little village of Holton in such a ferment
of excitement as on the morning following the storm. As soon as the
first faint gleams of day-break brightened the eastern sky, several
fishermen assembled on the beach and strained their eyes in the
direction of the Pope's Nose to ascertain what had become of the
wreck. It was seen immediately that the ill-fated vessel had broken
up during the night; the sea, which had calmed down considerably,
was strewed with wreckage; and very soon the scene on the shore was
a busy one, as the fishermen ran their boats into the water, and
commenced collecting whatever salvage they could lay their hands
upon.

By eight o'clock quite a crowd was watching the proceedings,
including the captain of the lost schooner and the sailors who had
been so mercifully preserved from a watery grave. Granfer Cole was
there also, no worse for the drenching he had received the preceding
night; and Miss Tidy hovered about, first gossiping with one, then
with another, till it was time for her to hurry home and open the
post-office to the public. Then Sir Richard Gidley with Ruth, closely
followed by Nero, were seen approaching. Nothing had been known of
the wreck at the Manor House till the morning, when the postman, the
first corner from the village, had brought the news. Sir Richard had
started for Holton at once with his grand-daughter, who had begged to
be allowed to accompany him. The little girl had been thrown a great
deal with her grandfather during her brother's illness; she had grown
to know him better, and had lost her fear of him; whilst he, from at
first tolerating her society, had actually grown to appreciate it.

The first enquiries Sir Richard made when he appeared in the midst
of the villagers were for the shipwrecked crew. Immediately the
captain of the lost vessel came forward, and gave him a brief account
of the perils undergone during the preceding night. Sir Richard's
eyes glowed as he listened to the story, so gratefully told, of how
the doctor and his volunteers had gone out, at the imminent risk of
their lives, to the doomed ship, for he dearly loved to hear of a
brave deed; but he made no remark, although everyone saw he was
deeply moved.

Meanwhile Dick had started to walk to the Manor House. Great was his
disappointment, when he arrived there, at the absence of his
grandfather and Ruth; but he found Mrs. Compton and Lionel in the
dining-room, and poured the story of his experiences the night before
into their ears.

"How I wish I had been there!" Lionel exclaimed. He was lying on a
sofa, and his mother had been reading to him. "What a nuisance it is
to have a game leg, to be sure! If there's anything exciting going on
I'm certain to be out of the way! We could hear the sea roaring last
night—grandfather said it was a ground swell; and I was simply
longing to be down on the beach, although we knew nothing whatever
about the wreck. You were in luck's way, Dick!"

"It was awful!" Dick responded impressively. "I never wish to see
a storm again! The waves were like great mountains of foam, and the
wind almost blew us off our feet, and made us gasp for breath!"

"How brave of Dr. Warren to go out to the wreck!" Mrs. Compton
exclaimed. "Now, I call him a real hero!"

Dick looked delighted, especially when Lionel added his word of
praise by saying heartily,—

"Dr. Warren's a very good sort! I shall never forget how awfully kind
he's been to me, and I'm not a bit surprised that he showed up so
well last night!"

By and by Sir Richard and Ruth returned. The latter was so full of
chatter that her mother had to ask her to allow some one else an
opportunity of speaking; and seeing her grandfather was regarding her
with a disapproving frown on his face, the little girl sat down at
the foot of her brother's sofa, and lapsed into silence.

"The storm has done a great deal of damage along the coast," Sir
Richard informed his daughter. "The east cliff was washed right away
last night."

"Washed right away!" Mrs. Compton echoed wonderingly. "What terrible
force the waves must have had! I should have thought the east cliff
would have withstood any storm!"

"I wish I could go and look!" Lionel cried impatiently. "If only my
leg was well enough for me to get about!"

"You should be thankful it is as well as it is," his grandfather
reminded him gravely.

"Oh, I am," Lionel answered quickly, flushing under the gaze of Sir
Richard's reproving eyes; "but it's such a pity to be shut out of all
the fun! Did you know the east cliff was washed away, Dick?"

"No," was the reply; "I never heard of the east cliff before."

"It was that high cliff which jutted out into the sea at high tide,
forming a headland on the east from Holton," explained Sir Richard.

"Oh, yes; I've often been round that cliff looking for the secret
passage," Dick answered, "but I did not know what it was called
before. Is it quite washed away, grandfather?"

"Quite. The headland has disappeared altogether, making the line of
cliffs almost straight."

Presently Sir Richard asked his daughter to accompany him into the
garden to see the havoc the storm had worked there. The minute after
they had left the room, Ruth's busy tongue began to chatter.

"Much good all our fine plans were for finding the secret passage!"
she exclaimed. "I believe you boys thought you'd be sure to discover
it!"

"We must have been near the entrances scores of times!" Lionel cried
vexedly. "It would have been something to have been proud of if we
had been successful in finding it!"

"I don't know," Dick responded; "I haven't thought so much about it
lately—not since you were shot. That put it quite out of my head."

"Oh, but think how people would have talked about us if we had found
the secret passage!" said Lionel, who set great store on public
opinion. "I daresay it would have been put in the newspaper!"

"Well, they put all about your accident in the newspaper," Ruth
reminded her brother. "I heard grandfather read it out to Susan
Morecombe. It was headed in big print—'A Terrible Gun Accident,'
and it said—"

"You've told me about that before," Lionel interposed hastily,
mindful that the newspaper account had spoken of his ignorance
of fire-arms, and desirous of hearing no more on that score; "you're
such a magpie that you're bound to repeat the same things over and
over again."

There was a little further conversation, and then Dick declared he
must be going, for Aunt Mary Ann would expect him home in good time
for the mid-day meal. Ruth suggested walking a short way with him,
so after Dick had taken a farewell of Lionel and promised to come
again shortly, and had found his aunt and grandfather in the garden,
and had said good-bye to them, the two children started off together.

On reaching the lodge, Dick remarked to Ruth that she had better
retrace her footsteps, but she elected to accompany him a little
further; and he discovered her reason for doing so when she pulled
him up at a gateway on one side of the road, and pointed to a small
grey donkey complacently munching the fresh green herbage in the
field within.

"That donkey belongs to an old woman who goes about selling
scrubbing-sand," Ruth informed her cousin; "he's having a holiday now
because his mistress is laid up with rheumatism. He's quite tame, and
so good-tempered! Here, Neddy, Neddy!" And the little girl extended
her hand coaxingly through the bars of the gate.

The donkey promptly came up to them, and submitted to have his face
stroked, and his ears pulled softly, evidently pleased and flattered
by these attentions.

"He knows me quite well," Ruth said; "I've often noticed him before.
Wouldn't you like to have a ride on his back, Dick?"

"Without a saddle?" Dick asked somewhat doubtfully. "I don't believe
I could stick on."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you could!" she assured him. "It's much easier
than you think! I tried yesterday—there was no one about—and it
was not at all difficult."

The children climbed the gate, which was locked, and dropped into the
field. Neddy threw up his heels, and scampered a way from them; but
he was soon encouraged to return, and Dick caught him around the
neck.

"Now, you hold him whilst I get up," Ruth commanded.

"All right!" Dick replied.

After several ineffectual attempts to jump upon Neddy's back, the
little girl at length accomplished the difficult feat. She sat
sideways, bolt upright, scarcely daring to move lest she should slip
off, but triumphant and smiling.

"He's the steadiest old donkey I know!" she cried gaily. "There! See
how easy it is! Let him go now, Dick! Gee up, Neddy!"

The donkey paced solemnly around the field to Ruth's intense
enjoyment. Suddenly he paused, seemed to think matters over, and then
began to kick. Ruth uttered a shrill scream as she was pitched into a
bramble-bush in the hedgerow; and Dick rushed towards her with a
wildly beating heart, and a face from which all the colour had fled.

"Oh, Ruth, are you hurt?" he cried, as he assisted her to get up, and
disentangled her skirts from the brambles. He gazed with dismay at a
scratch on her cheek, and another on her nose, and tenderly wiped
away the blood with his own handkerchief. "Oh, I'm afraid you are
hurt!"

For a few minutes Ruth scarcely realised what her injuries were, but
after she had given herself a shake which appeared to reassure her,
she declared herself unharmed except for her scratched face.

"I'm sure I don't know what they'll say at the Manor House!" she
exclaimed dolefully. "That wretched donkey! And I thought him so
good-tempered! Do I look an awful sight?"

"Well, yes, you look pretty bad!" Dick answered truthfully.

"Oh dear! Lionel's sure to laugh at me! He always does whenever he
gets a chance! I shall never have anything to do with Neddy again,
and I meant to bring him some carrots to-morrow!"

The donkey had retreated to a distance, where he was calmly nibbling
the grass. Ruth cast a resentful glance in his direction, but wisely
took no further notice of him. The children climbed over the gate,
and stood talking a few minutes in the road before they parted.

"What are you going to do this afternoon?" Ruth enquired.

"I think I shall go down on the beach and see what has happened
to the cliffs," Dick replied.

"Perhaps I'll come too! I will if I can! Shall we explore, and try to
find the secret passage? Lionel would be so surprised if we did! Oh,
it would be splendid!"

"So it would!" Dick agreed. "But I'm afraid it won't be much good our
searching!"

"Oh, but do let us! Anyway, I'll bring Nero, and we'll have fine fun
with him. If you're on the beach first you must wait for me, and if
I'm there first I'll wait for you."

"Very well. I'll come if I can. I hope your face does not hurt you
much?" —and Dick regarded his cousin's disfigured countenance with
real concern.

"Oh, no!" she responded, squinting in a vain attempt to look at the
scratch on her nose, "nothing to speak of! I wonder if grandfather
will want to know what I've been doing; if he does, I think I shall
tell him, because he likes us to speak out, and if he asks you,
you'll be sure to tell the truth."

"Why, of course," Dick returned; "you wouldn't wish me to tell a lie,
would you?"

"No; but you might say I fell into a bramble-bush and scratched my
face, without saying the donkey pitched me there."

"That would be only part of the truth," Dick objected, looking
decidedly uneasy.

"Well, you needn't bother, I'm going to tell about the donkey," Ruth
assured him, "and if grandfather is angry, I can't help it. I hope,
though, he won't make me stay indoors this afternoon; and I must
manage to get away from Lionel. Come down on the beach as early as
you can!"

Dick said he would; and after that the two children went their
separate ways. Going up the village street Dick overtook Granfer
Cole, who had spent his morning on the beach, having had a most
pleasant and exciting time in recounting his experiences of storms
of bygone years to an admiring audience.

"I never saw one to beat last night's gale," he told Dick. "To think
that the east cliff is gone! Dear, dear! I mind when I was a
youngster how I used to go shrimping around the rocks that way at low
tide, and what a powerful lot of shrimps I used to catch!"

"Do you think it likely that there is an entrance to the secret
passage in that direction?" Dick questioned eagerly.

Granfer reflected in silence for a moment, then he replied,—

"Well, I should say it was probable. The east cliff was in a line
with the Manor House, and nearer than any other part of the coast
would be. Are you still hoping to find the secret passage, young
gentleman?"

"Oh, yes! I daresay if it had not been for my cousin Lionel's
accident we should have found it long ago! I've looked for it by
myself, often; and now my cousin Ruth is going to help me. She only
a girl, but she's a very nice sort of girl, with plenty of pluck."

Granfer nodded his head, and chuckled with amusement. Dick
proceeded:—

"She can play cricket, and run nearly as fast as Lionel could before
his accident, and climb like a cat, and shy stones—yes, I do
believe better than I can; and I think she's about as brave as a girl
can be. Why, only just now, she was kicked off a donkey's back into a
bramble-bush, and she never even cried, although her face was badly
scratched."

"What donkey was it?" Granfer enquired in his inquisitive fashion.

"A donkey belonging to an old woman who sells scrubbing-sand. It is
in a field not far from the lodge of the Manor House."

"Ah, you mean a meadow adjoining the cliffs. I know the field, and I
know the donkey, and I know its owner!"

Dick laughed, for Granfer's tone was quite triumphant. The old man
prided himself on his knowledge of the district, and of every one
living in the neighbourhood for miles around.

"You must be very tired," the little boy said kindly, as he noted the
other's feeble steps, and how heavily he leaned upon his stout stick
for support; "it's a pity your way home is all up hill!"

"I'd rather live where I do than anywhere else in the village,"
Granfer responded contentedly, "for I've plenty of fresh air, and I'm
close to the church, so that as long as I can put one step before
another I shall be able to go to God's house, and hear His Holy Word.
Oh, I've much to be thankful for! But I'm keeping you, young
gentleman, so I'll say good-morning!"

"Good-morning, Granfer!" Dick returned blithely.

He hurried home, fearing he was already late, and reached No. 8 Fore
Street just as Aunt Mary Ann was taking up her position at the window
to watch for his arrival, so as to welcome him with her brightest
smile.



CHAPTER XIX

ADRIFT

"I WONDER if Ruth will be here," thought Dick, as, two hours later,
he sat on the edge of a boat on the Holton beach, waiting for his
cousin. He shaded his eyes with his hand, for the sun was shining
full into his face, and gazed in the direction she would have to
come; and then her familiar figure, clad in serviceable blue serge,
appeared in sight, accompanied by Nero, and the little boy smiled and
drew a breath of relief, for he had feared she might have been
prevented from joining him.

"Here I am, you see!" she cried, as she reached him. "Oh, I must rest
for a few minutes, I'm fearfully hot, I've been hurrying so!" —and
she sat down by his side, thereby nearly upsetting the boat.

"Oh, do be careful!" he expostulated.

"All right, I will! Isn't the sun warm for the last day of October?"
She pushed back the scarlet jelly-bag cap she wore from her forehead,
and glanced around appreciatively as she continued: "How quiet it all
is! The sea is quite calm, I declare! Well, Dick, I had no difficulty
in getting away, as it happened; after luncheon I just slipped out of
the house without anyone being the wiser."

"Oughtn't you to have let Aunt Arabella know where you were going?"
he asked, a trifle uneasily.

She shrugged her shoulders, and shook her fair head, her blue eyes
gleaming mischievously.

"I told how the donkey kicked me off his back," she remarked. "Lionel
said it served me right for being a tomboy; and mother said she
didn't know, she was sure, how her daughter could be such a hoyden,
and she wondered I hadn't been killed; and grandfather said what was
no good never came to harm—I don't think he quite meant that!"

"Then grandfather wasn't angry?"

"Not a bit. He told mother the scratches on my face were only skin
deep, and she needn't worry. She was fussy, you know; it's her way!"

Dick was fondling Nero, who was standing by his side, smiling up into
his face with watchful amber eyes. The great dog was wagging his tail
good-humouredly; perhaps he, as well as the children, anticipated an
enjoyable afternoon.

"Did you have any difficulty in getting away?" Ruth enquired.

"Oh, no! Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus let me go wherever
I please now, alone!"

"That's the best of being a boy! Just because I'm a girl mother's
always telling me not to do this, and not to do that, and not to tear
my clothes, or get untidy! She even grumbles about the freckles on
the bridge of my nose—as though they mattered! Really it's too bad!
What are you going to do first this afternoon?"

"Suppose we walk along the beach towards where the cliff was washed
away?" Dick suggested.

"Very well. I'm cooler now, and ready to start."

Accordingly they rose, and strolled along, keeping close to the
water's edge, occasionally pausing to throw stones into the sea
for Nero to fetch. There were only a few fishermen on the beach,
mending their nets and overhauling their gear, who looked up from
their work now and again to watch the children; but by-and-by the two
young figures with their black attendant disappeared from sight
beyond the big rocks which strewed the shore.

"Oh, I say, what a change!" Dick exclaimed, as they came within view
of the spot where the headland had jutted out from the cliffs, and
they saw with their own eyes the damage the waves had wrought during
the night.

The beach at that point was covered with rocks of various sizes, so
that they were obliged to proceed slowly, skirting some, clambering
over others, and laughing merrily at every slight accident in the
shape of slips and falls, which damaged their clothes but did not
impair their high spirits.

"It is great fun!" Ruth cried, in accents of delight. "What a jolly
time we're having! I suppose," she continued a little nervously,
"that the sea is really going out? We should be in a dreadful plight
if it was coming in, and we were caught by the tide!"

"There's no danger of that," Dick replied; "it won't be low water
for two hours yet. I'm certain, because I asked a fisherman, and he
would be sure to know."

"Look at this lovely anemone!" Ruth said, going down on her knees,
the better to gaze into the depths of a little pool between two
rocks. "Isn't it a beauty?"

"Yes," agreed Dick; "but how about the secret passage? We ought to be
looking for that!"

The little girl sprang to her feet, and they went further up the
beach, and began to search around the base of the cliffs in hopes
of finding an opening somewhere, but all to no purpose.

"It is just here where the east cliff was," Dick remarked, as he
glanced up at the precipitous face of the cliffs. He had scrambled
to the top of a large rock as he was speaking, and before Ruth had
time to answer he slipped off the other side, and disappeared from
sight. She laughed gaily, and waited for him to reappear; but instead
of climbing up again he called to her in excited tones,—

"Ruth, Ruth, come here! Don't climb over the rock! See if you can't
come round!"

She obeyed, and found there was about space enough to squeeze herself
between the rock and the cliff. Dick caught her by the hand as she
joined him, and pointed to a large opening like a yawning cavern in
the face of the cliff.

"The secret passage!" he cried. "Oh Ruth, it must be the secret
passage!"

"Oh, do you think it can be? How glad I am! I never thought we should
find it, really! How lucky you slipped like that! But you don't want
to go in, do you? Oh, I couldn't! It's so dark, and we don't know
what might be there!"

"I don't suppose there is anything there that would hurt us," Dick
replied—he had no intention of exploring further, however; "but I
think we had better go back and let grandfather know what we have
discovered before we say a word about it to any one else."

"Oh, yes! Don't let us waste our time here! I'm sure this is one of
the entrances to the secret passage! I wonder why it was never found
before!"

"Don't you understand, Ruth. The sea washed away the east cliff last
night, and the entrance must have been hidden in it somewhere. The
passage hasn't always been open!"

"How stupid of me not to think of that! Come, Dick, let us get back
to Holton as soon as we can!"

They squeezed their way between the rock and the cliff, and began to
retrace their footsteps; but it seemed as though they were returning
at a much slower rate than they had come. At last Ruth suggested that
if they went nearer the water's edge it would be easier getting
along, as the beach was less rocky away from the cliffs. Accordingly
they did so, much to the satisfaction of Nero, who waded in and out
of the sea, and persisted in shaking himself every time he came close
to his companions.

"Supposing it shouldn't be the secret passage after all; how Lionel
will laugh at us!" Ruth said, her bright face clouding slightly.
"I vote we don't tell him anything about it before we've spoken
to grandfather!"

"All right, we won't! But I think it must be the secret passage;
if not, it's a cave of some sort. Look, Ruth, there's a boat anchored
on the beach just ahead of us. I didn't notice it as we came; that
was because we were keeping under the cliffs, I suppose. Oh, I know
whose it is!" the boy continued, as they reached it; "it's Jim
Cole's! Jim lives in a little cottage above that steep, zig-zag path
cut in the cliff; I went there once with Uncle Theophilus when
Mrs. Cole was ill. Isn't it a jolly boat?"

"Yes," Ruth responded thoughtfully. "Can you row, Dick?"

"I should think I can! I have taken an oar many times lately when
I've been boating with Uncle Theophilus!"

"Oh, then, do let us borrow Jim Cole's boat and row back to Holton!
I'm sure he wouldn't mind lending it to us! Think what fun it would
be!"

"I can't row with two oars," Dick was reluctantly obliged to
acknowledge.

"You can take one oar, and I'll take the other. I am sure we can
manage very well like that. You're not afraid, are you?"

"Oh, no; but—"

"Did Miss Warren or Dr. Warren say you were not to go in a boat?"

"No; but—"

"Oh, Dick, do stop saying 'but!' It's so stupid of you! I'm tired
of walking on the sand and climbing over rocks, and we can row back
to Holton in no time. Help me to get up the anchor."

It was fixed much more firmly than Ruth had anticipated; but after
several futile attempts they succeeded in freeing it from the ground,
and placed it in the bottom of the boat, then, the beach sloping
towards the sea, they had no difficulty in pushing the boat itself
into the water.

"Get in quickly, Ruth!" Dick cried, his scruples as to the wisdom of
the step they were taking having completely vanished.

She obeyed, and sank, laughing gleefully, upon a seat, whilst the boy
sprang in after her, and standing upright, pushed the boat off from
the shore with an oar.

"Now we're off!" said Ruth. "Look at Nero! He doesn't like being left
behind! Oh, I hope he won't try to come with us and upset us!"

The faithful animal was not so foolish as that, however, although he
distinctly objected to the doings of his companions. He followed the
boat into deep water, and swam around it several times in evident
distress, his eyes full of reproach and trouble. At length he went
ashore, and sitting down on his haunches—a miserable dripping
figure—set up a most mournful howl.

"Poor old fellow!" exclaimed Dick pityingly. "It's a shame for us
to leave him there! Let us put back, and walk home."

"Oh, no, no!" Ruth objected, "he'll follow on shore."

They each took an oar and commenced to pull, but scarcely made any
progress at all.

"You don't keep stroke with me," Dick said at length, "and sometimes
your oar misses the water. Presently you'll catch a crab, if you
aren't careful!"

"I'm no more likely to catch crabs than you are," retorted Ruth
rather crossly, for she was growing hot, and her arms were aching
already; "let us wait a short while and rest!"

"All right!" Dick agreed readily, rather pleased at the suggestion,
for his arms too were beginning to tire.

After a few minutes they started afresh. They rowed in a most erratic
manner, and Ruth was heartily wishing they had never seen the boat,
when Dick's prediction proved true; she caught a crab, and lost her
oar.

"Oh, dear," she cried, clasping her hands in despair, "whatever shall
I do?"

"We can't get it again," Dick told her gloomily, as he watched the
oar floating far beyond reach, "and I'm sure I don't know what we're
going to do. I can't get the boat ashore!"

"Then we shall drift out to sea!" Ruth exclaimed in a frightened
tone, looking wildly around, and noting that the short October
afternoon was closing in. "Oh, look at Nero," she continued, "he's
running up and down the beach now, and howling louder than ever.
Whatever shall we do, Dick?"

"We can't do anything," he answered in tragic accents; "it will be
dark soon, and—and—"

His voice faltered, and he turned his face away that Ruth might not
see his eyes were misty. He was terribly alarmed, and his companion
was no less so. She cautiously stole to his side, and they anxiously
scanned the shore in hopes of seeing a human form; but only Nero was
in sight, and his howls were becoming more and more indistinct. They
were drifting out to sea, for the tide had not yet turned. In the far
distance were the sails of a few fishing smacks' but there was no
boat they could possibly hail.

"We shall be drowned," Ruth said, beginning to sob. "I—I know we
shall be drowned! Oh, it's awful, awful!"

"Don't cry, please don't cry," Dick implored piteously, struggling
hard to keep back his own tears. "Perhaps God won't let us be
drowned. You know, Ruth, God's here in this boat," he proceeded more
bravely, as the thought brought comfort with it, "and we mustn't be
afraid."

"But I am afraid, Dick! Don't you see the sun has set, and the
light's going? It'll be dark soon!"

"Yes, but the night is the same as the day to God, Ruth. Don't let us
be more frightened than we can help."

There was a brief silence. The children sat hand in hand, watching
the shadows deepening under the cliffs, and the mist creeping over
the sea. Dick thought of his parents in India, and wondered if he
would ever see them again; then he prayed fervently to God for help,
and tried to encourage his cousin not to give up hope.

"If we drift far out to sea perhaps a trawler will pick us up," he
suggested, "or perhaps Jim Cole will miss his boat, and—"

"Oh, Dick, it's no good talking like that! I'm sure we shall be
drowned!"

"Oh, no! In the morning—"

"We shall be dead by then," she interrupted, "dead of cold!" —and
she shivered, and wept without restraint. "I wish I was a better
girl," she said presently, wiping away her tears, "but I've always
been naughty. I don't speak the truth like you do, Dick. I tell
fibs—not great big lies, but little silly fibs; and I don't obey
mother, though I know I ought; and I'm altogether nasty, I think!"

"I'm sure you're not," Dick replied earnestly. "You're not a bit
nasty, and you tell the truth much oftener than you used—you told
about the donkey this morning, you know."

"I am so glad I did! Do you think God will forgive me for all the
wrong things I've done, if I tell Him how sorry I am?"

"Of course He will! I'd tell Him at once if I were you!"

There was another short silence. It was now almost dark, but it was a
wonderfully peaceful evening—the calm after a storm. The children
were utterly unconscious of the direction in which the boat was
drifting. Ruth had ceased crying, though she could not prevent an
occasional sob breaking from her lips. Dick was exceedingly sorry for
her, and he was sorry for himself too; he did not talk because he was
afraid his voice might betray the emotion he bravely restrained.

At length, when they had both made up their minds that it was useless
hoping to be rescued from their harrowing position that night, they
heard men's voices shouting, and presently a light glimmered at no
great distance away.

"Oh, look, look!" cried Ruth excitedly, springing to her feet.

"Sit down," Dick said nervously, "or you'll upset us!"

She obeyed, whilst they both strained their eyes through the gloom,
and saw that the light was coming nearer and nearer.

"It's a boat," Dick declared; "yes, I'm certain it's a boat. We shall
be saved! Let us shout as loud as ever we can!"

They did so, and were answered immediately; a few minutes later a
large boat came alongside, into which Ruth and Dick were carefully
lifted by a couple of strong fishermen, whilst Jim Cole's little
craft was taken in tow.

"Who's that?" whispered Ruth to Dick, glancing at a third figure
seated in the bow; "why, I do believe it's grandfather!"

It was indeed Sir Richard Gidley. He drew his grandchildren towards
him, and placed an arm around each.

"Thank God you are both safe," he said gravely, and there was the
sound of strong repressed emotion in his deep voice. Until then they
had not realised he loved them so well.



CHAPTER XX

A JOYFUL HOME-COMING

"THIS is winter at last!" said Miss Warren, as she stood at the
sitting-room window on the afternoon subsequent to Ruth and Dick's
boating experience, and looked out on the driving rain which was
flooding the gutters in the deserted street. "I thought this morning
the weather was going to change again; one seldom has two days
following as fine as yesterday, at this time of the year."

Dick, who had been sitting by the fire, gazing thoughtfully into the
glowing coals, jumped up from his chair, and ran to the window to
look out.

"I had no idea it was raining like this!" he exclaimed. "Oh, Aunt
Mary Ann, I wonder if grandfather has found out yet whether it was
really the secret passage we discovered? We told him about it last
night, and he said he'd see to it! I do think he's much nicer and
better-tempered than he used to be!"

"I believe you gave him a terrible fright," Miss Warren said gravely.

"I believe we did," Dick answered, "but we did not mean to! I told
him how sorry we were, and—I suppose we were very foolish—it was
all on account of Ruth's losing her oar! And if it had not been for
dear old Nero, grandfather would never have seen us at all!"

"How was that?" Miss Warren enquired. "I thought Sir Richard saw you
from the cliff path?"

"Yes; he told us all about it as the fishermen rowed us home. Aunt
Arabella was worried because she did not know where Ruth had gone,
and grandfather remembered what she had told them about the donkey at
luncheon, and thought perhaps she had gone to try and ride Neddy
again. So he went to look for her; and when he found she wasn't with
the donkey he walked a little way on the cliff path till he heard a
dog howling. He felt quite certain it was Nero, because he knew his
voice, so he looked over the cliffs, and saw us in the boat drifting
out to sea. Then he hurried down to the village, got a boat, and
found us!" —Dick concluded, with a sob at the remembrance of the
terrible position he and his little cousin had been in.

"Oh, Dick!" Miss Warren cried, "I shudder to think of what might have
been! Thank God I did not know of your danger!"

"You went to look for me, didn't you, Aunt Mary Ann?"

"Yes, my dear, when it became quite dark and you had not come home
I naturally grew anxious. I made enquiries for you in the village
first, and by the time I reached the beach you were on the point of
landing. Sir Richard asked me not to scold you, and I gave him my
word I would not. I hope you will never be so foolhardy again!"

"I never will! Poor old Nero! How glad he was to see us! Did you see
him on the beach waiting for us, Aunt Mary Ann? Oh, here comes the
gig!"

"Theophilus will be in good time for tea," said Miss Warren, as she
turned from the window and bustled into the hall to meet her brother.

She assisted him to remove his dripping overcoat, and then followed
him into the sitting-room, shook up the cushions of his favourite
easy-chair, and poked the coals into a blaze.

"Well, Dick," the doctor said as he sat down, and extended his
chilled hands to the fire, "you look none the worse for your
experience of yesterday. So you and that mischievous young cousin
of yours actually did find the secret passage, it seems."

"What!" cried Dick. "Do you mean it, Uncle Theophilus? How do you
know?"

"I will explain. I thought I would call at the Manor House to satisfy
myself that Lionel continues to progress as he should, and to enquire
for your companion in misfortune, Dick."

"Ah, how is the poor little girl?" Miss Warren interposed.

"As lively as a cricket. I found Sir Richard had been absent all the
morning, and had only then returned; he greeted me with the news that
the secret passage had been found, and that, in company with several
fishermen and Groves, he had traversed the distance from the spot
where the east cliff once stood to the Manor House, underground."

"Is it possible?" Miss Warren exclaimed incredulously.

"Then we really did find the secret passage!" Dick cried, his eyes
shining brightly, his whole countenance glowing with gratification.

"You really did. It is in excellent preservation, Sir Richard says;
he and his companions appear to have spent the whole morning
in exploring it."

"How could they find their way?" Dick asked. "It looked so awfully
dark!"

"They took lanterns, of course."

"Did they find anything, Uncle Theophilus—treasures, I mean?"

"No, merely a few casks of wine and brandy at the far end of the
passage near the house. Don't you want to know where the other
entrance is? Well, I can tell you. When the explorers had walked what
seemed an interminable distance to them, but what was really about
half a mile, I suppose, they found themselves in a large cellar, in a
corner of which was a flight of well-worn stone steps, so narrow as
to admit of only one person climbing them at a time. Sir Richard went
up first and the others followed. They mounted higher and higher till
they came to a heavy oaken door which was wide open, and passing
through the doorway, they found themselves in a small, long-ways room
furnished with a wooden bedstead, a table, and a single chair. There
was a door in the wall of the little room—I don't mean the one
leading to the stone steps, but another directly opposite—which,
when opened after some difficulty, for it was locked, and had to be
forced, revealed what proved to be a huge sheet of canvas framed in
wood—apparently the back of a picture." The doctor paused, and
glanced from one to the other of his listeners with a smile. They
were regarding him with almost breathless interest.

"Well?" said Miss Warren eagerly.

"Well?" echoed Dick.

"After careful examination Sir Richard discovered a mark like a cross
in the wood at the bottom of the canvas; he pressed it with his
finger, and so must have touched a hidden spring, for immediately the
great sheet of canvas silently slid to one side, leaving an aperture
in the wall through which Sir Richard stepped, and found himself in
the picture-gallery of his own house!"

"Theophilus!" cried Miss Warren incredulously, whilst Dick was struck
silent with astonishment.

"Yes; the secret passage leads from the sea-shore to the Manor
House," Dr. Warren said impressively, "where the entrance is hidden
by the picture of Paul Gidley, the martyr. I saw the little room
behind the picture myself this afternoon, and Sir Richard wants you
to see it too, Mary Ann. Don't you think you might call at the Manor
House to-morrow?"

"I?" cried Miss Warren, flushing hotly. "Impossible, Theophilus!
You cannot wish it!"

"Indeed I do! Why is it impossible?" her brother asked gently. "Shall
you never visit your niece when she and her husband return from
India? They are to make their home at the Manor House, I understand."

"Oh, that alters the case altogether," Miss Warren allowed. "I should
like to see the Manor House; and I like Mrs. Compton. If Sir Richard
wishes it, I will certainly call!"

Dick could talk of nothing but the secret passage during tea-time;
he asked his uncle scores of questions, but the doctor had told all
there was to tell.

The following day the little boy accompanied his aunt to the Manor
House, where every one was so pleased to see Miss Warren, and made so
much of her, that her bright face simply beamed with radiant smiles.
She was shown the picture-gallery, and the little room which the
martyr's picture had hidden so many years, and peeped down the steep
stone steps built in the thickness of the wall.

Although Dick had really been the one to find the secret passage,
Ruth took more than her share of the honour and glory, as her brother
did not fail to remind her; he was rather vexed himself at not having
had anything to do with the discovery.

That first visit of Miss Warren's to the Manor House quite broke down
the barrier which had existed between her and Sir Richard; she was
fully satisfied now that the old man had entirely forgiven his son
for his marriage.

Mrs. Compton and her children remained with her father until the new
year, when they returned to their London home. Sir Richard felt very
lonely after his visitors had gone, for the weather was wet and
cheerless, and, in consequence, Dick was not continually coming and
going between No. 8 Fore Street and the Manor House as he had been
in the habit of doing during the time his aunt and cousins had been
visiting his grandfather. February, however, brought a change in the
weather. Towards the end of the month the heavy rains ceased, and
after a few days of genial sunshine, a marked alteration was visible
in the dank hedgerows; a faint stir as of coming life murmured
through the leafless woods like a whisper of the approaching spring;
and with the lengthening days Dick told himself that surely his
parents would be coming home soon.

"They are coming! They are coming!" was the joyous refrain
continually in his ears; and every time he looked at the old clock
in the hall at No. 8 Fore Street, and watched the ship rocking to and
fro, he was reminded of the ship which would one day come, bearing
his mother and father to him from across the sea.

Dick had been in England now more than a year, and was very different
to the forlorn, pale-faced little lad who had been sent home to the
tender care of Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus, and whose short
stature and delicate appearance had been, at first, such a
disappointment to his grandfather. He had grown considerably,
his slight frame had become more robust, and with the sea-tan on the
firm, round cheeks which had once been so white and thin, he looked
a picture of perfect health.

He spent most of the summer days out-of-doors, in the woods, or on
the beach, where he fraternised with the fishermen, and with his
knickerbockers tucked up to his thighs, put in long delightful hours
shrimping between the rocks. Then, in August, Mrs. Compton with Ruth
and Lionel again arrived at the Manor House, and Dick had congenial
companions once more to share in his amusements.

Ruth was as great a hoyden as ever, and hated to be outdone by the
boys, following their lead in every way. Lionel had certainly
improved; he was less domineering, and his accident the preceding
year had taught him the lesson of obedience, which he had failed to
learn before. Both Ruth and Lionel were looking forward to the return
of Uncle Richard and his wife, whilst their mother was thankful peace
had been restored between her father and brother, and was not a
little curious to meet her sister-in-law. Meanwhile, Dick was almost
sick at heart with waiting; it seemed as though his parents would
never come!

*     *     *     *     *     *

"Grandfather has gone to London on most important business," Lionel
announced one morning, as he and Ruth called for Dick at No. 8 Fore
Street. "He went last night, but we expect him back this evening in
time for dinner; mother says he will be sure to come because Dr. and
Miss Warren have promised to dine with us. Mother sends her love to
Miss Warren, and wants her to allow you to spend the day with Ruth
and me!"

Aunt Mary Ann willingly gave her permission to this arrangement, and
Dick went off with his cousins. First they visited the post-office,
where Lionel had a commission to execute for his mother, and where
they were asked by Miss Tidy when Dick's parents were expected.

"I don't know," said Dick, shaking his head a little dolefully, and
sighing; "they didn't say anything about coming the last time they
wrote."

"Oh, they'll be here soon now, you may depend!" the post-mistress
declared, and Dick felt he quite loved her for saying it, and smiled
as he met the kindly gleam of her round green eyes.

From the post-office they repaired to the beach, where they found
Granfer Cole in conversation with his grandson Jim. Whenever the old
man saw Dick he brought up the subject of the secret passage, and
congratulated him on having been the one to discover it.

"Not that I ever thought you would find it, young gentleman," he said
on this occasion, "though I'm mighty pleased that you did, if only to
prove that my father knew what he was talking about! There were those
who didn't believe in the secret passage at all!"

The children laughed, and sat down on the beach in the sunshine to
talk; but Ruth and Lionel had most of the conversation.

"It's very queer," said Dick presently, "I don't seem able to think
of any one but mother and father to-day; I suppose it's because
I dreamt of them last night; it was so long ago I saw them!"

"I believe you're awfully fond of them, aren't you, Dick?" said Ruth
seriously.

"Of course I am!"

"You always want to do what you think they'd like," Ruth continued;
"grandfather says you're a true soldier's son, because you speak the
truth, and know how to obey!"

Dick flushed with pleasure, for to his mind this was highest praise.
He thought of his first night In England, when he had been so very
low-spirited and unhappy, and Uncle Theophilus had succeeded
in raising his British pluck.

"Grandfather likes people to tell the truth," Lionel remarked
gravely; "I've got on with him much better since I found out that
he'd rather one spoke out to him. He hates liars!"

"So does father!" Dick replied. "He says they're always mean,
cowardly sort of people."

"I haven't told even a little fib since Dick and I were nearly
drowned," Ruth chimed in.

"You weren't nearly drowned," Lionel expostulated.

"We might have been nearly drowned," Ruth persisted. "I am sure
something dreadful would have happened to us if it hadn't been for
Nero! We should have died of cold! At any rate, I told God then I'd
turn over a new leaf, and be a better girl, and I'm trying. When I
remember how I cried, and what a coward I was, I feel so ashamed of
myself! I wonder what grandfather has gone to London for,"
she proceeded with a sudden change of tone; "I believe mother knows,
because when I asked her she told me not to keep on worrying her
with questions, and that was the first question I had asked!"

The others laughed at the aggrieved expression on the little girl's
face; they did not feel so curious about Sir Richard's business
as she did.

"He left in a very good temper," remarked Lionel carelessly; "but I
haven't the least idea why he's gone! He'll be home about six this
evening."

After a little further conversation the young people rose, and turned
their footsteps towards the Manor House, dawdling on the way to pluck
and eat the blackberries which grew on the brambles by the roadside.
Mrs. Groves, portly as ever, came out of the lodge to exchange a few
words with them, and to inquire what time Sir Richard would return;
perhaps she was wondering, too, what the most important business was
which had necessitated this journey to London.

The children spent the afternoon in the gardens; and about five
o'clock Dr. Warren and his sister arrived—the latter all in a
flutter, gowned in her best silk dress, with the daintiest of ruffles
at neck and wrists, and with her fine colour a little brighter than
usual.

By-and-by a fact dawned on the boys which Ruth had discerned earlier
in the day—that their elders all seemed in a state of subdued
expectancy and excitement. Mrs. Compton and Miss Warren were holding
a conversation in lowered voices in the drawing-room, whilst the
doctor was wandering aimlessly about the hall, examining the guns and
weapons which ornamented the walls as carefully as though he had
never seen them in his life before.

Suddenly Ruth put her fair head around the dining-room door and
called to the boys, who were passing the time by sliding down the
bannisters.

"Come and look at the dinner-table," she said; "it's simply lovely!
Mother has done all the decorations herself—yellow chrysanthemums,
and maiden-hair fern! But I can't make it out—the table is laid
for too many people!"

"Oh, nonsense!" Dr. Warren cried hastily. "There's no time for you
to waste in looking at the dinner-table now, boys! Run upstairs, and
brush your hair, and wash your hands! Quick! Your grandfather will be
here very soon!"

Lionel and Dick obeyed, racing each other up the broad staircase,
whilst Ruth prepared to argue the point with the doctor as to whether
or not the table was laid for the right number.

"My dear little girl," he told her kindly, "you may depend upon it,
it is all right."

Presently the sound of carriage-wheels was heard, and Mrs. Compton
and Miss Warren hurried into the hall, whilst the servants appeared
in the background, and the boys came running noisily down the stairs.
Every one was evidently on the tiptoe of excitement; it certainly
seemed somewhat strange that so much to do should be made simply
because the master of the house was returning from a short journey.

Susan Morecombe it was who flung open the great front door as the
carriage drew up; and the children pressed forward; then paused,
transfixed with astonishment. Dick started violently as his eyes
rested on the figure seated on the box seat beside Groves—a figure
he had never seen in English costume before, but nevertheless one
that he recognised at once. It was Nanukchund. The little boy stood
spell-bound. He felt for one brief moment as though he must be
dreaming, for how was it possible Nanukchund could actually be here?
Then his gaze slowly turned from the Hindoo's solemn countenance to
the other occupants of the carriage. There was his grandfather
looking unusually pleased and glad, and by his side some one with the
dearest sweetest face in the world, who was smiling at him through a
mist of tears; and opposite was a handsome, soldierly-looking man,
bending forward hurriedly to open the carriage door.

Dick uttered a cry which expressed all the yearning passionate love
of his heart, and ran forward just as his father sprang out of the
carriage. Captain Gidley caught his little son in his arms, and
kissed him again and again, whilst Sir Richard courteously assisted
his daughter-in-law to alight. She was pale, and trembling with joy,
as Dick turned from his father to her; but the colour returned to her
cheeks as she felt his warm kisses, and heard his whispered greeting:
"Oh, mother, at last, at last!"

Afterwards, Dick had a dim remembrance of Aunt Mary Ann in tears, and
Uncle Theophilus patting her encouragingly on the back; of his
grandfather standing very upright in the doorway with a wonderfully
softened expression on his face; of his father and Aunt Arabella
kissing each other; and of Ruth and Lionel apparently enjoying the
scene; but at the time he was only fully conscious of a great
happiness, a wonderful contentment that no words could adequately
express. His cup of joy was full to overflowing now that his father
and mother had come home.

What glorious days followed! Dick had so many experiences to relate,
so much to tell concerning the past eventful months of separation
from his parents, that it was a wonder his tongue did not weary
of talking. Henceforward his home was to be at the Manor House,
an arrangement which pleased every one, even Dr. and Miss Warren,
though they missed their little nephew sadly, and felt very lonely
after he had left them; but the latter found comfort in the thought
that the room which he had occupied at No. 8 Fore Street, and which
had been his mother's before him, could still be called his, and kept
in readiness if he should, at any time, require it.

Mrs. Compton and her children made a lengthened stay at the Manor
House; and the unhappy breach in the family which Captain Gidley's
marriage had made was quite healed. It was impossible to live under
the same roof long with Dick's mother, and not like her. Sir Richard
had prepared himself to tolerate her presence; but he had not known
her many days before he found himself seeking her society; and
understanding the love with which her husband and little son regarded
her. He began to listen with pleasure to her light footsteps moving
about the house; to smile at the sound of her merry laugh; and to
think her voice one of the sweetest he had ever heard. He never told
any one that he approved of her in so many words, but on one occasion
when a servant came to him for an order, she was referred to Mrs.
Gidley.

"Go and ask Mrs. Gidley; she is mistress here," Sir Richard said
briefly, and it was then understood that for the future he intended
his son's wife to rule over his establishment; and she forthwith took
the reins of government into her hands, to the satisfaction of all.

Some of Sir Richard's acquaintances shook their heads forbodingly
when they heard of this arrangement, thinking it hardly possible the
arbitrary old man would be content not to interfere with his
daughter-in-law's management; but they were surprised to find that he
continued quite satisfied with everything she did, and upheld her
authority in the household, invariably remarking when she appealed to
him for an opinion upon any matter: "Please yourself, my dear, then
you will please me!"

So there was happiness within the walls of the Manor House—such
happiness as the master had never thought possible for him till Dick
had been sent home from India to unconsciously make peace, and pave
the way for his parents' return; and there was happiness at No. 8
Fore Street too, where the kind, unselfish hearts of Aunt Mary Ann
and Uncle Theophilus rejoiced with those they loved. This
satisfactory state of affairs continued, and the tie which bound
the two households together became so firmly rivetted that ere long
it was seldom remembered it had ever been otherwise; Dick felt he had
nothing left to wish for, which blissful state of mind he one day
confided to his grandfather, who, though he made no reply in words,
smiled with gratification, realising he could truthfully echo the
little boy's sentiment. After years of discontent spent in nursing
his unforgiving spirit, Sir Richard Gidley's proud heart had
softened; and he, too, had found happiness at last.



THE END




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