20 [December 2, 1871.]

I touched my cap, thinking it would only
distress him, and check the stream of his
benevolence towards the next wayfarer, if
So much to account
I explained his error.
for the fact that when I entered the tap-
room of the little public at Hapsbury, and
found three men over their pipes and beer,
two of whom were unmistakably tramps,
the third a boosy labourer, they viewed
me without suspicion, and continued to
discourse freely, as before one of their own
caste. The tramps were bound for Notting-
ham, Hapsbury lying on the high road, I
found, between that city and L., which
I had just left. The discussion, as I
entered, was as to the relative excellence of
various roads. At first I understood this
to refer to their paving, which in some
parts of the country is but bad walk-
ing. It was, however, as I soon learnt, the
moral rather than the physical aspect of the
king's highway, which the worthy couple
had under consideration.

"Nottingham to Leicester's a betterer road nor this. I left ten crosses and three double crosses behind me the last time as I done that 'ere road," said one speaker, looking round with an air of satisfaction, not unmixed with pride.

"Besides dots ?" asked the other. "Besides dots. They're the softest It's true that this 'earted lot you ever see. 'ere way, there's one 'ouse as is always good for five crosses.'

"What do that mean ?" asked the boosy labourer, taking the pipe from his mouth, his leaden eye lighted up with a gleam of curiosity.

"Why, every cross is a tizzy, to be sure, and a tizzy's a sixpence, if you don't know," said the first speaker, with an air of profound contempt for bucolic igno

rance.

"And what's dots ?"

"Dots is brownies, as we call 'em sometimes, that's pence. We don't make much account hov a road as 'as got nothin' but dots along the palin's. Now this 'ere lady's one o' the right sort, poor thing. I s'pose she's kep' in a kind o' prison, for scores and scores o' times as I come this way, she's al'ays at that same winder, and she's always good for 'alf-a-crown. Indeed, for any chap as 'as a squaller

"What's a squaller ?" said the rustic, resolved to satisfy his legitimate thirst for information, regardless of the traveller's

scorn.

"Why, bless your 'eart, a squaller's a I might ha' brat as squalls, to be sure.

bought Mary Hanne's squaller for ten bob,
and wery good interest it'd ha' paid me
for my money. This 'ere good lady al'ays
gives five bob to a squaller, they tells me.
I s'pose she's never a child of 'er own, eh ?"

"Noa." Here the fellow scratched his
head, and added, after a pause, “she's be
a loanesome life, folks say; but the squoire
be foine and rich, any ways. Eh, but
money be a foine thing."

"And be 'im as charitable as 'er ?" asked the second tramp; and turning to his fellow-labourer, he murmured something in a low voice, of which I only caught the words, "distressed hoperatives." But the spark of cupidity, if kindled, was quickly extinguished.

"Noa, noa. You'll not be gettin' the blind side o' th' squoire. It be th' missis as be for the givin'. He be all for argyfying; and when he lost his tri'le 'gain th' village, 'bout th' path, he were that riled, he never give us nothin' no moure. They tells me as th' parson's tried to stan' up again him for t' argyfy, but it warn't no good; he wouldn't give a ha'porth to th' school along o' that 'ere path."

This was a dark saying to me, and as the conversation changed soon after, I took advantage of the landlord's entry to ask for a bedroom, and to order some dinner. But as I saw from his face that my appearance did not inspire him with much confidence (which was what I wanted, at that moment, more even than the bed or dinner), I followed him into the passage, and taking some money from my pocket, I showed it him, and said:

"Though I wear a shabby coat, I will pay my way-don't be afraid." And upon mine host protesting that nothing was further from his thoughts, we drifted into an amicable discourse, which I led gradually to the subject of Squire Ridgway and "his lady." I learnt that the state of feeling between the squire and his village was anything but pleasant, owing to a right of way across his park, which he had vainly endeavoured to stop up. This path led directly under the window of Mrs. Ridgway's boudoir, and was a poisoned thorn in the side of the exman of taste." Mine host was of clusive " opinion that to the pale, lonely lady, sitting for ever at her window, and debarred, by the existing feud, from even visiting the poor, rosy the sight of the labourer, plodding homewards after his day's work, of the maid, laden with the spoil of the heavyuddered kine, of even the foot-sore tramp,

milk

trailing his weary steps through the cool grass, with a sense of thankfulness after the hot flinty road, were pleasant breaks in the monotony of her day, which she would have been sorry to lose. But however this might be, Mr. Ridgway, with that smooth implacability (which I knew so well), had never forgiven the obstinate resistance which the village had made to the infringement of their right. From that day Mr. Ridgway declined to do anything further for the poor, for the school, or for the church; he forbade his wife's going into the village; he cut off his establishment, as far as practicable, from all communication with his humbler neighbours, as he discouraged it with the richer ones, and all this he did deliberately, without heat, or visible expression of anger. The parish had tried conclusions with him, he said to the good vicar militant, who returned to the charge repeatedly; he, Mr. Ridgway, was a man of peace, and they had desired war; they had made their election-it was well; he had nothing more to say to them. And from this ultimatum nothing would move him.

it, and the soft line of hills in the distance, I
made a few random strokes, hoping that
she I sought might be attracted presently
to the window. I had not stood thus five
minutes when I heard a step upon the
gravel behind me, and, turning, I saw a
powdered footman approaching. "It is all
up now," I thought; "I am going to be
warned that, though there is a right of
way, there is no right of standing to sketch
in front of the house."
And I shut my
book. Imagine my surprise when the ser-
vant thus addressed me:

"Mr. Ridgway has sent me to ask, sir, if your name is not Luttrell? If so, he hopes you will walk in."

I never felt more confused. Of course I acceded; but when I reflected upon my appearance, and remembered how I had limped and slouched, and that the lynxeyed master here had detected me from his window under this masquerade, I confess I was ashamed of meeting him. My only course was boldness, and a statement of such portion of the truth as I could tell. My conductor led me through the great hall, with its marble pavement, and busts What I had heard, both in the tap-room of the Roman emperors along the walls, and from the landlord, gave me plenty to into a small morning-room, hung entirely think of that night. I made up my mind with rare engravings in narrow black that I would not leave the neighbourhood frames. A table, with a Sèvres chocolate till I had seen and spoken to Assunta; but service on it, stood near the fire, and before how was this to be managed? Mine host it, sipping his breakfast, in a black quilted had given me to understand that, unless satin dressing-gown, stood the master of the Mr. Ridgway was in the humour to receive house. The window, through which he had company, the doors were shut against every seen me, was in front of him, as he stood visitor to his wife. I resolved to recon- with his back to the fireplace, and to his noitre the ground before making any at-right was a door leading into the library. tempt, and early in the forenoon of the following day I started to walk across the park by the public path in question. On approaching the stately Italian palace, with its sky-line of marble balustrade, broken by busts and urns, I pulled my cap further over my face, and, disguising my gait with a stoop and a limp, I crept slowly past the angle of the house, in which was the window which had been described to me. On the other side of the path was a broad sheet of water, upon which this window consequently looked, and just beyond it came the great portico and flight of steps. The gardens, terraces, and fountains were all on the other side of the house. I looked up at the window, there was no one to be seen; I lingered, I looked back, and then I turned and walked past it again. At last I bethought me of my sketch-book, and, taking it out, I turned my back to the house, and facing the water, with the chestnut-wood behind

He looked as young as ever, and, with that silver-electro-plated smile of his, held out two fingers, saying:

"Ben venuto, Signor Pittore. By a curious coincidence in my you were thoughts five minutes before I saw you out of the window. What brings you to our fens ? Not a study of the picturesque, I imagine ?"

"I am on a short walking tour, having left my heavy luggage at L. I was debating in my mind whether I could venture to present myself here, in this mendicant's guise, Mr. Ridgway, when"

"Never mind, my dear sir. I hate explanations, don't you? They never explain anything. I am very glad to see you, no matter what may have brought you hereyou are the very man I want. You have arrived very opportunely to give me a piece of advice; but, first, will you have some breakfast? There are lobster cut

The day closed in, and the dressinggong for dinner sounded. I hurried down to the Spanish drawing-room, that famed apartment hung with Cordova leather, and adorned with some of the masterpieces of Velasquez and Murillo, and there, as I had hoped, I found Assunta, and alone. But oh, how changed! Nothing remained of the Assunta whom I remembered but the eyes, "Are you surprised that I do not choose and they were larger, more intense, than to be bored by all the idiots of a neigh- ever. Those burning orbs in their deep bourhood like this, where there is not a blue hollows, the shrunken cheek, the man who cares for anything but riding bloodless lips, all gave me the impression of after a wretched little animal, with a pack some inward fire consuming the frail lamp of hounds?" was his rejoinder. "I am that held it. Her fingers seemed almost glad to see any man of cultivation, other-transparent, as I took the hand she ex

tended and pressed it respectfully to my lips. She was magnificently dressed in a velvet robe, trimmed with fur, after the fashion of that day, against which the yellow white of her face and hands came out in yet more ghastly contrast. She evidently knew of my being in the house, for she manifested no surprise at seeing me; she was very calm, very silent; but a faint smile flickered on her face as I took her hand, and then it died out to reappear no more. As to myself, I could not speak. Though I had looked forward to this meeting so long, though I knew I should find her sadly changed, the sight of her affected me so painfully that I dared not trust my own voice. It was she who broke the silence. "I am glad to see you again. I never expected to do so. It seems a long, long time since we met-much longer than it really is."

"I have so often wished to hear from you," I at last found voice to say.

gradually into the conversation, but it was in vain; she sat there like a figure carved in stone, that by some mechanism is made to utter a monosyllable from time to time, and that is all. Nothing that was said awoke a smile, or any sign of interest on her face; and as soon as the dessert was set upon the table, she rose slowly and left the room. We sat late over our wine, for my host showed no inclination to return to the drawing-room, and I, who was impatient to return to Assunta, could not of course suggest a move. We found her sitting by the fire. I can see her now, the ruddy light upon her velvet dress, a fan of peacock's feathers in her hand, and the golden gloom of the Spanish leather background and richly carved frames. She did not turn her head, she did not move. There was something very terrible in this apathy. When the clock struck half-past ten she got up and took a small Roman lamp from the table. Then she held out her hand and turned towards the door. Mr. Ridgway gracefully sauntered up, and held it open for his wife.

"Good-night, Assunta.' "Good-night."

There was no kiss, no touch of any kind. She looked neither to the right nor to the left, but passed out, and the door closed behind her.

As soon as we were alone I observed a change in Mr. Ridgway. He was silent for certainly two or three minutes, passing his white hand to and fro across his chin, as he stared into the fire. Suddenly he looked up into my face, and with an expression upon his own so complicated that I found it impossible to read it, he said:

"You have not seen Mrs. Ridgway for some time. How do you think her looking?"

66

Very ill. Sadly changed, if you ask me, Mr. Ridgway."

"Did she say anything to you before dinner?-before I came into the room?" I returned his gaze steadily. "Very little."

She said this impassively, without a touch of bitterness, or even of regret. It was as though the springs of feeling were all frozen; and I saw that it would take long to thaw them. Mr. Ridgway entered, his well-turned legs displayed in small-clothes and silk stockings, which were then still worn by a few men; fragrant, and polished as ivory and ebony from head to foot. I fancied that he gave a quick, penetrating glance at Assunta; but he came forward without any embarrassment of manner, and You observe that she is generally from that moment to the hour of our retiring taciturn. But at times this is not the to rest, he kept up a constant fire of anec- case. You are right, she is ill, Mr. Luttrell, dote and quotation, happily needing but and her malady is one which I fear is inlittle assistance from me. He never ad- curable. You are an old friend of hers, and dressed his wife, except to ask what she you are now my guest for the next week at would take (those were the good old days | least. It is possible that in the course of of carving at table), and unless I spoke to that time Mrs. Ridgway may speak to you her she remained absolutely silent. Iin a manner which renders it advisable that appealed to her for an opinion whenever it was possible, in the hope of drawing her

you should be prepared to receive what she says by a knowledge of her condition. Her

"Have you ever communicated with her WICKED WOODS OF TOBEREEVIL -her friends ?"

"She has no family, as you know. Mrs. Walbrooke has been abroad for the last three years. I wrote to that poor creature Mrs. Fleming, to say that Assunta was in a highly nervous state, and unable to see her, and that, I thought, was sufficient. A woman like Mrs. Fleming would do her infinitely more harm than good."

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