Springhaven: A Tale of the Great War

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER LXV

  TRAFALGAR

  Lord Nelson sailed from Portsmouth on the 15th of September, in hisfavourite ship the Victory, to take his last command. He knew that henever should come home, except as a corpse for burial, but he fastenedhis mind on the work before him, and neglected nothing. "A fair fight,and no favour," was the only thing he longed for.

  And this he did obtain at last. The French commander-in-chief cameforth, with all his mighty armament, not of his own desire, but goadedby imperious sneers, and stings that made his manhood tingle. He spreadthe sea-power of two nations in a stately crescent, double-lined (as themoon is doubled when beheld through fine plate-glass)--a noble sight, aparamount temptation for the British tow-rope.

  "What a lot for we to take to Spithead!" was the British tar's remark,as forty ships of the line and frigates showed their glossy sides, andcanvas bosomed with the gentle air and veined with gliding sunlight. Agrander spectacle never was of laborious man's creation; and the workof the Lord combined to show it to the best advantage--dark headlandsin the distance standing as a massive background, long pellucid billowslifting bulk Titanic, and lace-like maze, sweet air wandering fromheaven, early sun come fresh from dew, all the good-will of the worldinspiring men to merriness.

  Nelson was not fierce of nature, but as gentle as a lamb. His greatdesire, as he always proved, was never to destroy his enemies by thenumber of one man spareable. He had always been led by the force ofeducation, confirmed by that of experience, to know that the duty of anEnglishman is to lessen the stock of Frenchmen; yet he never was freefrom regret when compelled to act up to his conscience, upon a largescale.

  It is an old saying that nature has provided for every disease itsremedy, and challenges men to find it out, which they are clever enoughnot to do. For that deadly disease Napoleon, the remedy was Nelson; andas soon as he should be consumed, another would appear in Wellington.Such is the fortune of Britannia, because she never boasts, but grumblesalways. The boaster soon exhausts his subject; the grumbler has matterthat lasts for ever.

  Nelson had much of this national virtue. "Half of them will get away,"he said to Captain Blackwood, of the Euryalus, who was come for hislatest orders, "because of that rascally port to leeward. If the windhad held as it was last night, we should have had every one of them. Itdoes seem hard, after waiting so long. And the sky looks like a gale ofwind. It will blow to-night, though I shall not hear it. A gale of windwith disabled ships means terrible destruction. Do all you can to savethose poor fellows. When they are beaten, we must consider their liveseven more than our own, you know, because we have been the cause of it.You know my wishes as well as I do. Remember this one especially."

  "Good-bye, my lord, till the fight is over." Captain Blackwood loved hischief with even more than the warm affection felt by all the fleet forhim. "When we have got them, I shall come back, and find you safe andglorious."

  "God bless you, Blackwood!" Lord Nelson answered, looking at him with acheerful smile. "But you will never see me alive again."

  The hero of a hundred fights, who knew that this would be his last, puton his favourite ancient coat, threadbare through many a conflict withhard time and harder enemies. Its beauty, like his own, had sufferedin the cause of duty; the gold embroidery had taken leave of absence insome places, and in others showed more fray of silk than gleam of yellowglory; and the four stars fastened on the left breast wanted a littleplate-powder sadly. But Nelson was quite contented with them, and likea child--for he always kept in his heart the childhood's freshness--hegazed at the star he was proudest of, the Star of the Bath, and througha fond smile sighed. Through the rays of that star his death was coming,ere a quarter of a day should be added to his life.

  With less pretension and air of greatness than the captain of a pennysteamer now displays, Nelson went from deck to deck, and visited everyman at quarters, as if the battle hung on every one. There was scarcelya man whom he did not know, as well as a farmer knows his winter hands;and loud cheers rang from gun to gun when his order had been answered.His order was, "Reserve your fire until you are sure of every shot."Then he took his stand upon the quarter-deck, assured of victory, andassured that his last bequest to the British nation would be honouredsacredly--about which the less we say the better.

  In this great battle, which crushed the naval power of France, and savedour land from further threat of inroad, Blyth Scudamore was not engaged,being still attached to the Channel fleet; but young Dan Tugwell borea share, and no small share by his own account and that of his nativevillage, which received him proudly when he came home. Placed at a gunon the upper deck, on the starboard side near the mizzen-mast, he foughtlike a Briton, though dazed at first by the roar, and the smoke, and thecrash of timber. Lord Nelson had noticed him more than once, as one ofthe smartest of his crew, and had said to him that very morning, "Forthe honour of Springhaven, Dan, behave well in your first action." Andthe youth had never forgotten that, when the sulphurous fog envelopedhim, and the rush of death lifted his curly hair, and his feet weresodden and his stockings hot with the blood of shattered messmates.

  In the wildest of the wild pell-mell, as the Victory lay like a peltedlog, rolling to the storm of shot, with three ships at close quartershurling all their metal at her, and a fourth alongside clutched so closethat muzzle was tompion for muzzle, while the cannon-balls so thicklyflew that many sailors with good eyes saw them meet in the air andshatter one another, an order was issued for the starboard guns on theupper deck to cease firing. An eager-minded Frenchman, adapting hisdesires as a spring-board to his conclusions, was actually able tobelieve that Nelson's own ship had surrendered! He must have been offhis head; and his inductive process was soon amended by the logic offacts, for his head was off him. The reason for silencing those guns wasgood--they were likely to do more damage to an English ship which laybeyond than to the foe at the portholes. The men who had served thoseguns were ordered below, to take the place of men who never should firea gun again. Dan Tugwell, as he turned to obey the order, cast a glanceat the Admiral, who gave him a little nod, meaning, "Well done, Dan."

  Lord Nelson had just made a little joke, such as he often indulged in,not from any carelessness about the scene around him--which was trulyawful--but simply to keep up his spirits, and those of his brave andbeloved companion. Captain Hardy, a tall and portly man, clad in brightuniform, and advancing with a martial stride, cast into shade the mightyhero quietly walking at his left side. And Nelson was covered with dustfrom the quarter-gallery of a pounded ship, which he had not stopped tobrush away.

  "Thank God," thought Dan, "if those fellows in the tops, who are pickingus off so, shoot at either of them, they will be sure to hit the big manfirst."

  In the very instant of his thought, he saw Lord Nelson give a suddenstart, and then reel, and fall upon both knees, striving for a moment tosupport himself with his one hand on the deck. Then his hand gave way,and he fell on his left side, while Hardy, who was just before him,turned at the cabin ladderway, and stooped with a loud cry over him. Danran up, and placed his bare arms under the wounded shoulder, and helpedto raise and set him on his staggering legs.

  "I hope you are not much hurt, my lord?" said the Captain, doing hisbest to smile.

  "They have done for me at last," the hero gasped. "Hardy, my backbone isshot through."

  Through the roar of battle, sobs of dear love sounded along theblood-stained deck, as Dan and another seaman took the pride of ournation tenderly, and carried him down to the orlop-deck. Yet even so, inthe deadly pang and draining of the life-blood, the sense of duty neverfailed, and the love of country conquered death. With his feeble handhe contrived to reach the handkerchief in his pocket, and spread it overhis face and breast, lest the crew should be disheartened.

  "I know who fired that shot," cried Dan, when he saw that he could helpno more. "He never shall live to boast of it, if I have to board theFrench ship to fetch him."

  He ran back quickly to the quarterdeck,
and there found three or fourothers eager to give their lives for Nelson's death. The mizzen-top ofthe Redoutable, whence the fatal shot had come, was scarcely so muchas fifty feet from the starboard rail of the Victory. The men who werestationed in that top, although they had no brass cohorn there, suchas those in the main and fore tops plied, had taken many English lives,while the thick smoke surged around them.

  For some time they had worked unheeded in the louder roar of cannon, andwhen at last they were observed, it was hard to get a fair shot at them,not only from the rolling of the entangled ships, and clouds of blindingvapour, but because they retired out of sight to load, and onlycame forward to catch their aim. However, by the exertions of ourmarines--who should have been at them long ago--these sharp-shootersfrom the coign of vantage were now reduced to three brave fellows. Theyhad only done their duty, and perhaps had no idea how completely theyhad done it; but naturally enough our men looked at them as if they were"too bad for hanging." Smoky as the air was, the three men saw that avery strong feeling was aroused against them, and that none of theirown side was at hand to back them up. And the language of theEnglish--though they could not understand it--was clearly that of bittercondemnation.

  The least resolute of them became depressed by this, being doubtless aRadical who had been taught that Vox populi is Vox Dei. He endeavoured,therefore, to slide down the rigging, but was shot through the heart,and dead before he had time to know it. At the very same moment themost desperate villain of the three--as we should call him--or the mostheroic of these patriots (as the French historians describe him) poppedforward and shot a worthy Englishman, who was shaking his fist insteadof pointing his gun.

  Then an old quartermaster, who was standing on the poop, with his legsspread out as comfortably as if he had his Sunday dinner on the spitbefore him, shouted--"That's him, boys--that glazed hat beggar! Haveat him all together, next time he comes forrard." As he spoke, hefell dead, with his teeth in his throat, from the fire of the otherFrenchman. But the carbine dropped from the man who had fired, and hisbody fell dead as the one he had destroyed, for a sharp little Middy,behind the quartermaster, sent a bullet through the head, as the handdrew trigger. The slayer of Nelson remained alone, and he kept backwarily, where none could see him.

  "All of you fire, quick one after other," cried Dan, who had picked up aloaded musket, and was kneeling in the embrasure of a gun; "fire so thathe may tell the shots; that will fetch him out again. Sing out first,'There he is!' as if you saw him."

  The men on the quarter-deck and poop did so, and the Frenchman, who waswatching through a hole, came forward for a safe shot while they wereloading. He pointed the long gun which had killed Nelson at the smartyoung officer on the poop, but the muzzle flew up ere he pulled thetrigger, and leaning forward he fell dead, with his legs and armsspread, like a jack for oiling axles. Dan had gone through somesmall-arm drill in the fortnight he spent at Portsmouth, and his eyeswere too keen for the bull's-eye. With a rest for his muzzle he laidit truly for the spot where the Frenchman would reappear; with extremepunctuality he shot him in the throat; and the gallant man who deprivedthe world of Nelson was thus despatched to a better one, three hours infront of his victim.

  CHAPTER LXVI

  THE LAST BULLETIN

  To Britannia this was but feeble comfort, even if she heard of it. Shehad lost her pet hero, the simplest and dearest of all the thousandsshe has borne and nursed, and for every penny she had grudged him in theflesh, she would lay a thousand pounds upon his bones. To put itmore poetically, her smiles were turned to tears--which cost hersomething--and the laurel drooped in the cypress shade. The hostilefleet was destroyed; brave France would never more come out of harbourto contend with England; the foggy fear of invasion was like a morningfog dispersed; and yet the funds (the pulse of England) fell at the lossof that one defender.

  It was a gloomy evening, and come time for good people to be in-doors,when the big news reached Springhaven. Since the Admiral slept in thegreen churchyard, with no despatch to receive or send, the importance ofSpringhaven had declined in all opinion except its own, and even CaptainStubbard could not keep it up. When the Squire was shot, and Master Erleas well, and Carne Castle went higher than a lark could soar, and folkwere fools enough to believe that Boney would dare put his foot downthere, John Prater had done a most wonderful trade, and never a man whocould lay his tongue justly with the pens that came spluttering fromLondon had any call for a fortnight together to go to bed sober at hisown expense. But this bright season ended quite as suddenly as it hadbegun; and when these great "hungers"--as those veterans were entitledwho dealt most freely with the marvellous--had laid their heads togetherto produce and confirm another guinea's worth of fiction, the Londonpress would have none of it. Public interest had rushed into anotherchannel; and the men who had thriven for a fortnight on their tongueswere driven to employ them on their hands again.

  But now, on the sixth of November, a new excitement was in store forthem. The calm obscurity of night flowed in, through the trees thatbelonged to Sir Francis now, and along his misty meadows; and the onlysound in the village lane was the murmur of the brook beside it, or thegentle sigh of the retiring seas. Boys of age enough to make muchnoise, or at least to prolong it after nightfall, were away in thefishing-boats, receiving whacks almost as often as they needed them; forthose times (unlike these) were equal to their fundamental duties.In the winding lane outside the grounds of the Hall, and shaping itsconvenience naturally by that of the more urgent brook, a man--to showwhat the times were come to--had lately set up a shoeing forge. He haddone it on the strength of the troopers' horses coming down the hill sofast, and often with their cogs worn out, yet going as hard as if theyhad no knees, or at least none belonging to their riders. And althoughhe was not a Springhaven man, he had been allowed to marry a Springhavenwoman, one of the Capers up the hill; and John Prater (who was akin tohim by marriage, and perhaps had an eye to the inevitable ailment of aman whose horse is ailing) backed up his daring scheme so strongly thatthe Admiral, anxious for the public good, had allowed this smithy to beset up here.

  John Keatch was the man who established this, of the very same family(still thriving in West Middlesex) which for the service of the statesupplied an official whose mantle it is now found hard to fill; and theblacksmith was known as "Jack Ketch" in the village, while his forge wasbecoming the centre of news. Captain Stubbard employed him for batteryuses, and finding his swing-shutters larger than those of Widow Shanks,and more cheaply lit up by the glow of the forge, was now beginning, inspite of her remonstrance, to post all his very big proclamations there.

  "Rouse up your fire, Ketch," he said that evening, as he stood at thedoor of the smithy, with half a dozen of his children at his heels."Bring a dozen clout-nails; here's a tremendous piece of news!"

  The blacksmith made a blaze with a few strokes of his bellows, and swunghis shutter forward, so that all might read.

  "GREAT AND GLORIOUS VICTORY. Twenty line-of-battle ships destroyed orcaptured. Lord Nelson shot dead. God save the King!"

  "Keep your fire up. I'll pay a shilling for the coal," cried theCaptain, in the flush of excitement. "Bring out your cow's horn, andgo and blow it at the corner. And that drum you had to mend, my boy andgirl will beat it. Jack, run up to the battery, and tell them to blazeaway for their very lives."

  In less than five minutes all the village was there, with the readersput foremost, all reading together at the top of their voices, for thebenefit of the rest. Behind them stood Polly Cheeseman, peeping, withthe glare of the fire on her sad pale face and the ruddy cheeks of herinfant. "Make way for Widow Carne, and the young Squire Carne," the loudvoice of Captain Zeb commanded; "any man as stands afront of her willhave me upon him. Now, ma'am, stand forth, and let them look at you."

  This was a sudden thought of Captain Tugwell's; but it fixed her rankamong them, as the order of the King might. The strong sense of justice,always ready in Springhaven, backed up her right to be what shehad b
elieved herself, and would have been, but for foul deceit andfalsehood. And if the proud spirit of Carne ever wandered around theancestral property, it would have received in the next generation arighteous shock at descrying in large letters, well picked out withshade: "Caryl Carne, Grocer and Butterman, Cheese-monger, Dealer inBacon and Sausages. Licensed to sell Tea, Coffee, Snuff, Pepper, andTobacco."

  For Cheeseman raised his head again, with the spirit of a true Britishtradesman, as soon as the nightmare of traitorous plots and contrabandimports was over. Captain Tugwell on his behalf led the fishing fleetagainst that renegade La Liberte, and casting the foreigners overboard,they restored her integrity as the London Trader. Mr. Cheeseman shed atear, and put on a new apron, and entirely reformed his political views,which had been loose and Whiggish. Uprightness of the most sensitiveorder--that which has slipped and strained its tendons--stamped allhis dealings, even in the butter line; and facts having furnished acreditable motive for his rash reliance upon his own cord, he turnedamid applause to the pleasant pastimes of a smug church-warden. And whenhe was wafted to a still sublimer sphere, his grandson carried on thebusiness well.

  Having spread the great news in this striking manner, CaptainStubbard--though growing very bulky now with good living, ever since hispay was doubled--set off at a conscientious pace against the stomach ofthe hill, lest haply the Hall should feel aggrieved at hearing allthis noise and having to wonder what the reason was. He knew, and wasgrateful at knowing, that Carne's black crime and devilish plot hadwrought an entire revulsion in the candid but naturally too soft mindof the author of the Harmodiad. Sir Francis was still of a liberal mind,and still admired his own works. But forgetting that nobody read them,he feared the extensive harm they might produce, although he was nowresolved to write even better in the opposite direction. On the impulseof literary conscience, he held a council with the gardener Swipes, asto the best composition of bonfire for the consumption of poetry. Mr.Swipes recommended dead pea-haulm, with the sticks left in it toensure a draught. Then the poet in the garden with a long bean-stickadministered fire to the whole edition, not only of the Harmodiad,but also of the Theiodemos, his later and even grander work. Personsincapable of lofty thought attributed this--the most sage and practicalof all forms of palinode--to no higher source than the pretty face andfigure, and sweet patriotism, of Lady Alice, the youngest sister ofLord Dashville. And subsequent facts, to some extent, confirmed thisinterpretation.

  The old house looked gloomy and dull of brow, with only three windowsshowing light, as stout Captain Stubbard, with his short sword swingingfrom the bulky position where his waist had been, strode along thewinding of the hill towards the door. At a sharp corner, under sometrees, he came almost shoulder to shoulder with a tall man striking intothe road from a foot-path. The Captain drew his sword, for his nerveshad been flurried ever since the great explosion, which laid him on hisback among his own cannon.

  "A friend," cried the other, "and a great admirer of your valour,Captain, but not a worthy object for its display."

  "My dear friend Shargeloes!" replied the Captain, a little ashamed ofhis own vigilance. "How are you, my dear sir? and how is the system?"

  "The system will never recover from the tricks that infernal Carne hasplayed with it. But never mind that, if the intellect survives; we allowe a debt to our country. I have met you in the very nick of time.Yesterday was Guy Fawkes' Day, and I wanted to be married then; butthe people were not ready. I intend to have it now on New-Year's Day,because then I shall always remember the date. I am going up here tomake a strange request, and I want you to say that it is right andproper. An opinion from a distinguished sailor will go a long waywith the daughters of an Admiral. I want the young ladies to be mybridesmaids--and then for the little ones, your Maggy and your Kitty. Iam bound to go to London for a month to-morrow, and then I could orderall the bracelets and the brooches, if I were only certain who theblessed four would be."

  "I never had any bridesmaids myself, and I don't know anything aboutthem. I thought that the ladies were the people to settle that."

  "The ladies are glad to be relieved of the expense, and I wish to startwell," replied Shargeloes. "Why are ninety-nine men out of a hundredhenpecked?"

  "I am sure I don't know, except that they can't help it. But have youheard the great news of this evening?"

  "The reason is," continued the member of the Corporation, "that theybegin with being nobodies. They leave the whole management of theirweddings to the women, and they never recover the reins. Miss Twemlowis one of the most charming of her sex; but she has a decided character,which properly guided will be admirable. But to give it the lead at theoutset would be fatal to future happiness. Therefore I take this affairupon myself. I pay for it all, and I mean to do it all."

  "What things you do learn in London!" the Captain answered, with a sigh."Oh, if I had only had the money--but it is too late to talk of that.Once more, have you heard the news?"

  "About the great battle, and the death of Nelson? Yes, I heard of allthat this morning. But I left it to come in proper course from you. Nowhere we are; mind you back me up. The Lord Mayor is coming to be my bestman."

  The two sisters, dressed in the deepest mourning, and pale with longsorrow and loneliness, looked wholly unfit for festive scenes; and assoon as they heard of this new distress--the loss of their father'sdearest friend, and their own beloved hero--they left the room, to havea good cry together, while their brother entertained the visitors. "Itcan't be done now," Mr. Shargeloes confessed; "and after all, Eliza isthe proper person. I must leave that to her, but nothing else that I canthink of. There can't be much harm in my letting her do that."

  It was done by a gentleman after all, for the worthy Rector did it. Thebride would liefer have dispensed with bridesmaids so much fairer thanherself, and although unable to advance that reason, found fifty othersagainst asking them. But her father had set his mind upon it, andtogether with his wife so pressed the matter that Faith and Dolly, muchagainst their will, consented to come out of mourning for a day, but notinto gay habiliments.

  The bride was attired wonderfully, stunningly, carnageously--as Johnny,just gifted with his commission, and thereby with much slang, describedher; and in truth she carried her bunting well, as Captain Stubbard toldhis wife, and Captain Tugwell confirmed it. But the eyes of everybodywith half an eye followed the two forms in silver-grey. That was thenearest approach to brightness those lovers of their father allowedthemselves, within five months of his tragic death; though if the oldAdmiral could have looked down from the main-top, probably he would haveshouted, "No flags at half-mast for me, my pets!"

  Two young men with melancholy glances followed these fair bridesmaids,being tantalized by these nuptial rites, because they knew no better.One of them hoped that his time would come, when he had pushed his greatdiscovery; and if the art of photography had been known, his face wouldhave been his fortune. For he bore at the very top of it the seal andstamp of his patent--the manifest impact of a bullet, diffracted by thepower of Pong. The roots of his hair--the terminus of blushes, accordingto all good novelists--had served an even more useful purpose, byenabling him to blush again. Strengthened by Pong, they had defied thelead, and deflected it into a shallow channel, already beginning tobe overgrown by the aid of that same potent drug. Erle Twemlow lookedlittle the worse for his wound; to a lady perhaps, to a man of sciencecertainly, more interesting than he had been before. As he gazed at thebride all bespangled with gold, he felt that he had in his trunk themeans of bespangling his bride with diamonds. But the worst of it wasthat he must wait, and fight, and perhaps get killed, before he couldsettle in life and make his fortune. As an officer of a marchingregiment, ordered to rejoin immediately, he must flesh his sword inlather first--for he had found no razor strong enough--and postpone theday of riches till the golden date of peace.

  The other young man had no solace of wealth, even in the blue distance,to whisper to his troubled heart. Although he was a real "CaptainScu
ddy" now, being posted to the Danae, 42-gun frigate, the capacity ofhis cocked hat would be tried by no shower of gold impending. For mightydread of the Union-jack had fallen upon the tricolor; that gallant flagperceived at last that its proper flight was upon dry land, where as yetthere was none to flout it. Trafalgar had reduced by 50 per cent. theBritish sailor's chance of prize-money.

  Such computations were not, however, the chief distress of Scudamore.The happiness of his fair round face was less pronounced than usual,because he had vainly striven for an interview with his loved one. Withall her faults he loved her still, and longed to make them all his own.He could not help being sadly shocked by her fatal coquetry with thetraitor Carne, and slippery conduct to his own poor self. But love inhis faithful heart maintained that she had already atoned for thattoo bitterly and too deeply; and the settled sorrow of her face, andlistless submission of her movements, showed that she was now a verydifferent Dolly. Faith, who had always been grave enough, seemed gaietyitself in comparison with her younger sister, once so gay. In theirsimple dresses--grey jaconet muslin, sparely trimmed with lavender--andwearing no jewel or ornament, but a single snow-drop in the breast, thelovely bridesmaids looked as if they defied all the world to make thembrides.

  But the Rector would not let them off from coming to the breakfastparty, and with the well-bred sense of fitness they obeyed his bidding.Captain Stubbard (whose jokes had missed fire too often to be satisfiedwith a small touch-hole now) was broadly facetious at their expense;and Johnny, returning thanks for them, surprised the good company by hismanly tone, and contempt of life before beginning it. This invigoratedScudamore, by renewing his faith in human nature as a thing beyondcalculation. He whispered a word or so to his friend Johnny while Mr.and Mrs. Shargeloes were bowing farewell from the windows of a greatfamily coach from London, which the Lord Mayor had lent them, to makeup for not coming. For come he could not--though he longed to do so, andall Springhaven expected him--on account of the great preparations inhand for the funeral of Lord Nelson.

  "Thy servant will see to it," the boy replied, with a wink at hissisters, whom he was to lead home; for Sir Francis had made his way downto the beach, to meditate his new poem, Theriodemos.

  "His behaviour," thought Dolly, as she put on her cloak, "has beenperfect. How thankful I feel for it! He never cast one glance at me. Hequite enters into my feelings towards him. But how much more credit tohis mind than to his heart!"

  Scudamore, at a wary distance, kept his eyes upon her, as if she hadbeen a French frigate gliding under strong land batteries, from whichhe must try to cut her out. Presently he saw that his good friend Johnnyhad done him the service requested. At a fork of the path leading to theHall, Miss Dolly departed towards the left upon some errand amongthe trees, while her brother and sister went on towards the house.Forgetting the dignity of a Post-Captain, the gallant Scuddy made a cutacross the grass, as if he were playing prisoner's base with the boysat Stonnington, and intercepted the fair prize in a bend of the brook,where the winter sun was nursing the first primrose.

  "You, Captain Scudamore!" said the bridesmaid, turning as if she couldnever trust her eyes again. "You must have lost your way. This pathleads nowhere."

  "If it only leads to you, that is all that I could wish for. I amcontent to go to nothing, if I may only go with you."

  "My brother sent me," said Dolly, looking down, with more colour on hercheeks than they had owned for months, and the snow-drop quivering onher breast, "to search for a primrose or two for him to wear when hedines at the rectory this evening. We shall not go, of course. We havedone enough. But Frank and Johnny think they ought to go."

  "May I help you to look? I am lucky in that way. I used to find so manythings with you, in the happy times that used to be." Blyth saw that hereyelids were quivering with tears. "I will go away, if you would ratherhave it so. But you used to be so good-natured to me."

  "So I am still. Or at least I mean that people should now begood-natured to me. Oh, Captain Scudamore, how foolish I have been!"

  "Don't say so, don't think it, don't believe it for a moment," saidScudamore, scarcely knowing what he said, as she burst into a storm ofsobbing. "Oh, Dolly, Dolly, you know you meant no harm. You are breakingyour darling heart, when you don't deserve it. I could not bear to lookat you, and think of it, this morning. Everybody loves you still, asmuch and more than ever. Oh, Dolly, I would rather die than see you cryso terribly."

  "Nobody loves me, and I hate myself. I could never have believed Ishould ever hate myself. Go away, you are too good to be near me. Goaway, or I shall think you want to kill me. And I wish you would do it,Captain Scudamore."

  "Then let me stop," said the Captain, very softly. She smiled at theturn of his logic, through her tears. Then she wept with new anguish,that she had no right to smile.

  "Only tell me one thing--may I hold you? Not of course from any right todo it, but because you are so overcome, my own, own Dolly." The Captainvery cleverly put one arm round her, at first with a very light touch,and then with a firmer clasp, as she did not draw away. Her cloak wasnot very cumbrous, and her tumultuous heart was but a little way fromhis.

  "You know that I never could help loving you," he whispered, as sheseemed to wonder what the meaning was. "May I ever hope that you willlike me?"

  "Me! How can it matter now to anybody? I used to think it did; but Iwas very foolish then. I know my own value. It is less than this. Thislittle flower has been a good creature. It has been true to its place,and hurt nobody."

  Instead of seeking for any more flowers, she was taking from her breastthe one she had--the snow-drop, and threatening to tear it in pieces.

  "If you give it to me, I shall have some hope." As he spoke, he lookedat her steadfastly, without any shyness or fear in his eyes, but as onewho knows his own good heart, and has a right to be answered clearly.The maiden in one glance understood all the tales of his wonderfuldaring, which she never used to believe, because he seemed afraid tolook at her.

  "You may have it, if you like," she said; "but, Blyth, I shall neverdeserve you. I have behaved to you shamefully. And I feel as if I couldnever bear to be forgiven for it."

  For the sake of peace and happiness, it must be hoped that she conqueredthis feminine feeling, which springs from an equity of nature--thedesire that none should do to us more than we ever could do to them.Certain it is that when the Rector held his dinner party, two gallantbosoms throbbed beneath the emblem of purity and content. The militaryCaptain's snow-drop hung where every one might observe it, and somegentle-witted jokes were made about its whereabouts that morning.By-and-by it grew weary on its stalk and fell, and Erle Twemlow nevermissed it. But the other snow-drop was not seen, except by the wearerwith a stolen glance, when people were making a loyal noise--a littleglance stolen at his own heart. He had made a little cuddy thereinside his inner sarcenet, and down his plaited neck-cloth ran a slycompanionway to it, so that his eyes might steal a visit to the joy thatwas over his heart and in it. Thus are women adored by men, especiallythose who deserve it least.

  "Attention, my dear friends, attention, if you please," cried theRector, rising, with a keen glance at Scuddy. "I will crave yourattention before the ladies go, and theirs, for it concerns themequally. We have passed through a period of dark peril, a long timeof trouble and anxiety and doubt. By the mercy of the Lord, we haveescaped; but with losses that have emptied our poor hearts. England haslost her two foremost defenders, Lord Nelson, and Admiral Darling. Tothem we owe it that we are now beginning the New Year happily, with theblessing of Heaven, and my dear daughter married. Next week we shallattend the grand funeral of the hero, and obtain good places by dueinfluence. My son-in-law, Percival Shargeloes, can do just as he pleasesat St. Paul's. Therefore let us now, with deep thanksgiving, and onehand upon our hearts, lift up our glasses, and in silence pledge thememory of our greatest men. With the spirit of Britons we echo the lastwords that fell from the lips of our dying hero--'Thank God, I havedone my duty!' His memory
shall abide for ever, because he loved hiscountry."

  The company rose, laid hand on heart, and deeply bowing, said--"Amen!"

  THE END.