Wylder's Hand

by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

  CHAPTER LXXIII.

  THE MASK FALLS.

  There was a 'stop press' that evening in the county paper--'We have justlearned that a body has been disinterred, early this afternoon, undervery strange circumstances, in the neighbourhood of Gylingden; and if thesurmises which are afloat prove well-founded, the discovery will set atrest the speculations which have been busy respecting the whereabouts ofa certain gentleman of large property and ancient lineage, who, some timesince, mysteriously disappeared, and will, no doubt, throw this countyinto a state of very unusual excitement. We can state, upon authority,that the coroner will hold his inquest on the body, to-morrow at twelveo'clock, in the town of Gylingden.

  There was also an allusion to Captain Lake's accident--with theexpression of a hope that it would 'prove but a trifling one,' and anassurance 'that his canvass would not be prevented by it--although for afew days it might not be a personal one. But his friends might rely onseeing him at the hustings, and hearing him too, when the proper timearrived.'

  It was quite well known, however, in Gylingden, by this time, thatCaptain Lake was not to see the hustings--that his spine wassmashed--that he was lying on an extemporised bed, still in his clothes,in the little parlour of Redman's Farm--cursing the dead mare ingasps--railing at everybody--shuddering whenever they attempted to removehis clothes--hoping, in broken sentences, that his people would giveBracton and--good licking. Bracton's outrage was the cause of the entirething--and so help him Heaven, so soon as he should be on his legs again,he would make him feel it, one way or other.

  Buddle thought he was in so highly excited a state, that his brain musthave sustained some injury also.

  He asked Buddle about ten o'clock (having waked up from a sort ofstupor)--'what about Jim Dutton?' and then, whether there was not sometalk about a body they had found, and what it was. So Buddle told him allthat was yet known, and he listened very attentively.

  'But Larkin has been corresponding with Mark Wylder up to a very lateday, and if this body has been so long buried, how the devil can it behe? And if it be as bodies usually are after such a time, how can anybodypretend to identify it? And I happen to know that Mark Wylder is living,'he added, suddenly.

  The doctor told him not to tire himself talking, and offered, if hewished to make a statement before a magistrate, to arrange that oneshould attend and receive it.

  'I rather dislike it, because Mark wants to keep it quiet; but if, onpublic grounds, it is desirable, I will make it, of course. You'll useyour discretion in mentioning the subject.'

  So the captain was now prepared to acknowledge the secret meeting of thenight before, and to corroborate the testimony of his attorney and hisbutler.

  Stanley Lake had now no idea that his injuries were dangerous. He said hehad a bad bruise under his ribs, and a sprained wrist, and was a littlebit shaken; and he talked of his electioneering as only suspended for aday or two.

  Buddle, however, thought the case so imminent, that on his way to the'Brandon Arms,' meeting Larkin, going, attended by his clerk, again tothe vicar's house, he stopped him for a moment, and told him what hadpassed, adding, that Lake was so frightfully injured, that he might beginto sink at any moment, and that by next evening, at all events, he mightnot be in a condition to make a deposition.

  'It is odd enough--very odd,' said Larkin. 'It was only an hour since, inconversation with our policeman, Edwards, that I mentioned the fact of myhaving myself travelled from London to Shillingsworth last night with Mr.Mark Wylder, who went on by train in this direction, I presume, to meetour unfortunate friend, Captain Lake, by appointment. Thomas Sleddon, ofWadding Hall--at this moment in the "Brandon Arms"--is just the man; ifyou mention it to him, he'll go up with you to Redman's Farm, and takethe deposition. Let it be a _deposition_, do you mind; a statement ismere hearsay.'

  Comforted somewhat, reassured in a certain way, and in strong hopes that,at all events, such a muddle would be established as to bewilder thejury, Mr. Jos. Larkin, with still an awful foreboding weighing at hisheart, knocked at the vicar's door, and was shown into the study. Asolitary candle being placed, to make things bright and pleasant for thevisitor, who did not look so himself, the vicar, very pale, and appearingto have grown even thinner since he last saw him, entered, and shook hishand with an anxious attempt at a smile, which faded almost instantly.

  'I am so delighted that you have come. I have passed a day of suchdreadful agitation. Poor Mark!'

  'There is no doubt, Sir, whatsoever that he is perfectly well. Threedifferent persons--unexceptionable witnesses--can depose to having seenhim last night, and he had a long conference with Captain Lake, who is bythis time making his deposition. It is with respect to the other littlematter--the execution of the deed of conveyance to Messrs. Burlington andSmith's clients. You know my feeling about the note I wrote this morninga little--I will not say incautiously, because with a client of yourknown character and honour, no idea of the sort can find place--but Iwill say thoughtlessly. If there be any hanging back, or appearance ofit, it may call down unpleasant--indeed, to be quite frank,ruinous--consequences, which, I think, in the interest of your family,you would hardly be justified in invoking upon the mere speculation ofyour respected brother's death.'

  There was a sound of voices at the door. 'Do come in--pray do,' was heardin Dolly's voice. 'Won't you excuse me, but pray do. Willie, darling,don't you wish him to come in?'

  'Most particularly. Do _beg_ of him, in my name--and I know Mr. Larkinwould wish it so much.'

  And so Lord Chelford, with a look which, at another time, would have beenan amused one, quite conscious of the oddity of his introduction, came inand slightly saluted Mr. Larkin, who was for a few seconds prettyobviously confounded, and with a pink flush all over his bald forehead,tried to smile, while his hungry little eyes searched the viscount withfear and suspicion.

  Larkin's tone was now much moderated. Any sort of dealing was good enoughfor the simple vicar; but here was the quiet, sagacious peer, who hadshown himself, on two remarkable committees, so quick and able a man ofbusiness, and the picture of the vicar's situation, and of the powers andterrors of Messrs. Burlington and Smith, were to be drawn with an exacterpencil, and far more delicate colouring.

  Lord Chelford listened so quietly that the tall attorney felt he wasmaking way with him, and concluded his persuasion by appealing to him foran opinion.

  'That is precisely as I said. I knew my friend, Mr. Larkin, would be onlytoo glad of an opinion in this difficulty from you,' threw in the vicar.

  The opinion came--very clear, very quiet, very unpleasant--dead againstMr. Larkin's view, and concluding with the remark that he thought therewas more in the affair than had yet come to light.

  'I don't see exactly how, my lord,' said Mr. Larkin, a little loftily,and redder than usual.

  'Nor do I, Mr. Larkin, at present; but the sum offered is much too small,and the amount of costs and other drawbacks utterly monstrous, and theresult is, after deducting all these claims, including your costs, Mr.Larkin----'

  Here Mr. Larkin threw up his chin a little, smiling, and waving his longhand, and saying, 'Oh! as to _mine_,' in a way that plainly expressed,'They are merely put down for form's sake. It is playing at costs. Youknow Jos. Larkin--he never so much as dreamed of looking for them.'

  'There remain hardly nine hundred and fifty pounds applicable to thepayment of the Reverend Mr. Wylder's debts--a sum which would have beenample, before this extraordinary negotiation was commenced, to haveextricated him from all his pressing difficulties, and which I would havebeen only too happy at being permitted to advance, and which, and a greatdeal more, Miss Lake, whose conduct has been more than kind--quitenoble--wished to place in your client's hands.'

  '_That_,' said the attorney, flushing a little, 'I believe to have beentechnically impossible; and it was accompanied by a proposition which wason other grounds untenable.'

  'You mean Miss Lake's proposed residence here--an arrangement, it appearsto me, every way most d
esirable.'

  'I objected to it on, I will say, _moral_ grounds, my lord. It is painfulto me to disclose what I know, but that young lady accompanied Mr. MarkWylder, my lord, in his midnight flight from Dollington, and remained inLondon, under, I presume, his protection for some time.'

  'That statement, Sir, is, I happen to _know_, utterly contrary to fact.The young lady you mention never even saw Mr. Mark Wylder, since she tookleave of him in the drawing-room at Brandon; and I state this not invindication of her, but to lend weight to the caution I give you againstever again presuming to connect her name with your surmises.'

  The peer's countenance was so inexpressibly stern, and his eyes pouredsuch a stream of fire upon the attorney, that he shrank a little, andlooked down upon his great fingers which were drumming, let us hope, somesacred music upon the table.

  'I am truly rejoiced, my lord, to hear you say so. Except to the youngparty herself, and in this presence, I have never mentioned it; and I canshow you the evidence on which my conclusions rested.'

  'Thank you--no Sir; my evidence is conclusive.'

  I don't know what Mr. Larkin would have thought of it; it was simplyRachel's letter to her friend Dolly Wylder on the subject of theattorney's conference with her at Redman's Farm. It was a frank andpassionate denial of the slander, breathing undefinably, butirresistibly, the spirit of truth.

  'Then am I to understand, in conclusion,' said the attorney, that defyingall consequences, the Rev. Mr. Wylder refuses to execute the deed ofsale?'

  'Certainly,' said Lord Chelford, taking this reply upon himself.

  'You know, my dear Mr. Wylder, I told you from the first that Messrs.Burlington and Smith were, in fact, a very sharp house; and I fear theywill execute any powers they possess in the most summary manner.' Theattorney's eye was upon the vicar as he spoke, but Lord Chelfordanswered.

  'The powers you speak of are quite without parallel in a negotiation topurchase; and in the event of their hazarding such a measure, the Rev.Mr. Wylder will apply to a court of equity to arrest their proceedings.My own solicitor is retained in the case.'

  Mr. Larkin's countenance darkened and lengthened visibly, and his eyesassumed their most unpleasant expression, and there was a little pause,during which, forgetting his lofty ways, he bit his thumb-nail ratherviciously.

  'Then I am to understand, my lord, that I am superseded in the managementof this case?' said the attorney at last, in a measured way, which seemedto say, 'you had better think twice on this point.'

  'Certainly, Mr. Larkin,' said the viscount.

  'I'm not the least surprised, knowing, I am sorry to say, a good deal ofthe ways of the world, and expecting very little gratitude, for eithergood will or services.' This was accompanied with a melancholy sneerdirected full upon the poor vicar, who did not half understand thesituation, and looked rather guilty and frightened. 'The Rev. Mr. Wyldervery well knows with what reluctance I touched the case--a nasty case;and I must be permitted to add, that I am very happy to be quite rid ofit, and only regret the manner in which my wish has been anticipated, adiscourtesy which I attribute, however, to female influence.'

  The concluding sentence was spoken with a vile sneer and a measuredemphasis directed at Lord Chelford, who coloured with a sudden access ofindignation, and stood stern and menacing, as the attorney, with ageneral bow to the company, and a lofty _nonchalance_, made his exit fromthe apartment.

  Captain Lake was sinking very fast next morning. He made a statement toChelford, who was a magistrate for the county, I suppose to assist thecoroner's inquest. He said that on the night of Mark Wylder's last visitto Brandon, he had accompanied him from the Hall; that Mark had seen someone in the neighbourhood of Gylingden, a person pretending to be hiswife, or some near relative of hers, as well as he, Captain Lake, couldunderstand, and was resolved to go to London privately, and have thematter arranged there. He waited near the 'White House,' while he,Stanley Lake, went to Gylingden and got his tax-cart at his desire. Hecould give particulars as to that. Captain Lake overtook him, and he gotin and was driven to Dollington, where he took the up-train. That someweeks afterwards he saw him at Brighton; and the night before last, byappointment, in the grounds of Brandon; and that he understood Larkin hadsome lights to throw upon the same subject.

  The jury were not sworn until two o'clock. The circumstances of thediscovery of the body were soon established. But the question which nextarose was very perplexed--was the body that of Mr. Mark Wylder? Therecould be no doubt as to a general resemblance; but, though marvellouslypreserved, in its then state, certainty was hardly attainable. But therewas a perfectly satisfactory identification of the dress and propertiesof the corpse as those of Mr. Mark Wylder. On the other hand there wasthe testimony of Lord Chelford, who put Captain Lake's deposition inevidence, as also the testimony of Larkin, and the equally preciseevidence of Larcom, the butler.

  The proceedings had reached this point when an occurrence took placewhich startled Lord Chelford, Larkin, Larcom, and every one in the roomwho was familiar with Mark Wylder's appearance.

  A man pushed his way to the front of the crowd, and for a moment itseemed that Mark Wylder stood living before them.

  'Who are you?' said Lord Chelford.

  'Jim Dutton, Sir; I come by reason of what I read in the "Chronicle" overnight, about Mr. Mark Wylder being found.'

  'Do you know anything of him?' asked the coroner.

  'Nowt,' answered the man bluffly, 'only I writ to Mr. Larkin, there, as Iwanted to see him. I remember him well when I was a boy. I seed him inthe train from Lunnon t'other night; and he seed me on the Shillingsworthplatform, and I think he took me for some one else. I was comin' down tosee the Captain at Brandon--and seed him the same night.'

  'Why have you come here?' asked the coroner.

  'Thinkin' I might be mistook,' answered the man. 'I _was_ twice here inEngland, and three times abroad.'

  'For whom?'

  'Mr. Mark Wylder,' answered he.

  'It is a wonderful likeness,' said Lord Chelford.

  Larkin stared at him with his worst expression; and Larcom, I think,thought he was the devil.

  I was as much surprised as any for a few seconds. But there were pointsof difference--Jim Dutton was rather a taller and every way a larger manthan Mark Wylder. His face, too, was broader and coarser, but in featuresand limbs the relative proportions were wonderfully preserved. It wassuch an exaggerated portrait as a rustic genius might have executed upona sign-board. He had the same black, curly hair, and thick, blackwhiskers: and the style of his dress being the same, helped the illusion.In fact, it was a rough, but powerful likeness--startling at themoment--unexceptionable at a little distance--but which failed on anearer and exacter examination. There was, beside, a scar, which,however, was not a very glaring inconsistency, although it was plainly ofa much older standing than the date of Mark's disappearance. All thatcould be got from Jim Dutton was that 'he thought he might be mistook'and so attended. But respecting Mr. Mark Wylder he could say 'nowt.' Heknew 'nowt.'

  Lord Chelford was called away at this moment by an urgent note. It was torequest his immediate attendance at Redman's Farm, to see Captain Lake,who was in a most alarming state. The hand was Dorcas's--and LordChelford jumped into the little pony carriage which awaited him at thedoor of the 'Silver Lion.'

  When he reached Redman's Farm, Captain Lake could not exert himselfsufficiently to speak for nearly half-an-hour. At the end of that time hewas admitted into the tiny drawing-room in which the captain lay. He wasspeaking with difficulty.

  'Did you see Buddle, just now?'

  'No, not since morning.'

  'He seems to have changed--bad opinion--unless he has a _law_object--those d--d doctors--never can know. Dorcas thinks--I'll do nogood. Don't you think--he may have an object--and not believe I'm in muchdanger? You don't?'

  Lake's hand, with which he clutched and pulled Chelford's, was trembling.

  'You must reflect, my dear Lake, how very severe are the injuries y
ouhave sustained. You certainly _are_ in danger--_great_ danger.'

  Lake became indescribably agitated, and uttered some words, not often onhis lips, that sounded like desperate words of supplication. Not thatseaworthy faith which floats the spirit through the storm, but fragmentsof its long-buried wreck rolled up from the depths and flung madly on thehowling shore.

  'I'd like to see Rachel,' at last he said, holding Chelford's hand inboth his, very hard. 'She's clever--and I don't think she gives me upyet, no--a drink!--and they think I'm more hurt than I really am--Buddle,you know--only an apothecary--village;' and he groaned.

  His old friend, Sir Francis Seddley, summoned by the telegraph, was nowgliding from London along the rails for Dollington station; butanother--a pale courier--on the sightless coursers of the air, wasspeeding with a different message to Captain Stanley Lake, in the smalland sombre drawing-room in Redman's Dell.

  I had promised Chelford to run up to Redman's Farm, and let him know ifthe jury arrived at a verdict during his absence. They did so; findingthat the body was that of Marcus Wylder, Esquire, of Raddiston, and 'thathe had come by his death in consequence of two wounds inflicted with asharp instrument, in the region of the heart, by some person or personsunknown, at a period of four weeks since or upwards.'

  Chelford was engaged in the sick room, as I understood, in conferencewith the patient. It was well to have heard, without procrastination,what he had to say; for next morning, at a little past four o'clock, hedied.

  A nurse who had been called in from the county infirmary, said he made avery happy ending. He mumbled to himself, in his drowsy state, as she wasquite sure, in prayer; and he made a very pretty corpse when he was laidout, and his golden hair looked so nice, and he was all so slim andshapely.

  Rachel and Dorcas were sitting in the room with him--not expecting thecatastrophe then. Both tired; both silent; the nurse dozing a little inher chair, near the bed's head; and Lake said, in his clear, low tone, ona sudden, just as he spoke when perfectly well--

  'Quite a mistake, upon my honour.'

  As a clear-voiced sentence sometimes speaks out in sleep, followed bysilence, so no more was heard after this--no more for ever. The nurse wasthe first to perceive 'the change.'

  'There's a change, Ma'am'--and there was a pause. 'I'm afraid, Ma'am,he's gone,' said the nurse.

  Both ladies, in an instant, were at the bedside, looking at the peakedand white countenance, which was all they were ever again to see ofStanley; the yellow eyes and open mouth.

  Rachel's agony broke forth in a loud, wild cry. All was forgotten andforgiven in that tremendous moment.

  'Oh! Stanley, Stanley!--brother, brother, oh, brother!'

  There was the unchanged face, gaping its awful farewell of earth. Allover!--never to stir more.

  'Is he dead?' said Dorcas, with the peculiar sternness of agony.

  There could be no doubt. It was a sight too familiar to deceive thenurse.

  And Dorcas closed those strange, wild eyes that had so fatally fascinatedher, and then she trembled, without speaking or shedding a tear. Herlooks alarmed the nurse, who, with Rachel's help, persuaded her to leavethe room. And then came one of those wild scenes which close suchtragedies--paroxysms of despair and frantic love, over that worthlessyoung man who lay dead below stairs; such as strike us sometimes with adesolate scepticism, and make us fancy that all affection is illusion,and perishable with the deceits and vanities of earth.

  CHAPTER LXXIV.

  WE TAKE LEAVE OF OUR FRIENDS.

  The story which, in his last interview with Lord Chelford, Stanley Lakehad related, was, probably, as near the truth as he was capable oftelling.

  On the night when Mark Wylder had left Brandon in his company they hadsome angry talk; Lake's object being to induce Mark to abandon hisengagement with Dorcas Brandon. He told Stanley that he would not give upDorcas, but that he, Lake, must fight him, and go to Boulogne for thepurpose, and they should arrange matters so that one or other _must_fall. Lake laughed quietly at the proposition, and Mark retorted bytelling him he would so insult him, if he declined, as to compel ameeting. When they reached that lonely path near the flight of stonesteps, Stanley distinctly threatened his companion with a disclosure ofthe scandalous incident in the card-room of the club, which he afterwardsrelated, substantially as it had happened, to Jos. Larkin. When he tookthis decisive step, Lake's nerves were strung, I dare say, to a highpitch of excitement. Mark Wylder, he knew, carried pistols, and, allthings considered, he thought it just possible he might use them. He didnot, but he struck Lake with the back of his hand in the face, and Lake,who walked by his side, with his fingers on the handle of a dagger in hiscoat pocket, instantly retorted with a stab, which he repeated as Markfell.

  He solemnly averred that he never meant to have used the dagger, exceptto defend his life. That he struck in a state of utter confusion, andwhen he saw Mark dead, with his feet on the path, and his head lying overthe edge, he would have given a limb almost to bring him back. The terrorof discovery and ruin instantly supervened.

  He propped the body against the bank, and tried to stanch the bleeding.But there could be no doubt that he was actually dead. He got the bodyeasily down the nearly precipitous declivity. Lake was naturally by nomeans wanting in resource, and a certain sort of coolness, whichsupervened when the momentary distraction was over.

  He knew it would not do to leave the body so, among the rocks andbrambles. He recollected that only fifty yards back they had passed aspade and pick, lying, with some other tools, by the side of the path,near that bit of old wall which was being removed. Like a man doingthings in a dream, without thought or trouble, only waiting and listeningfor a moment before he disturbed them, he took away the implements whichhe required; and when about to descend, a sort of panic andinsurmountable disgust seized him; and in a state of supernatural dismay,he felt for a while disposed to kill himself. In that state it was hereached Redman's Farm, and his interview with Rachel occurred. It was theaccidental disclosure of the blood, in which his shirt sleeve was soaked,that first opened Rachel's eyes to the frightful truth.

  After her first shock, all her terrors were concentrated on the onepoint--Stanley's imminent danger. He must be saved. She made him return;she even accompanied him as far as the top of the rude flight of steps Ihave mentioned so often, and there awaited his return--the conditionimposed by his cowardice--and made more dreadful by the circumstance thatthey had heard retreating footsteps along the walk, and Stanley saw thetall figure of Uncle Julius or Lorne, as he called himself, turning thefar corner.

  There was a long wait here, lest he should return; but he did not appear,and Stanley--though I now believe observed by this strangebeing--executed his horrible task, replaced the implements, and returnedto Rachel, and with her to Redman's Farm; where--his cool cunning oncemore ascendant--he penned those forgeries, closing them with MarkWylder's seal, which he compelled his sister--quite unconscious of allbut that their despatch by post, at the periods pencilled upon them, wasessential to her wretched brother's escape. It was the success of this,his first stratagem, which suggested that long series of frauds which,with the aid of Jim Dutton, selected for his striking points ofresemblance to Mark Wylder, had been carried on for so long with suchconsummate art in a different field.

  It was Lake's ungoverned fury, when Larkin discovered the mistake inposting the letters in wrong succession, which so nearly exploded hisingenious system. He wrote in terms which roused Jim Dutton's wrath. Jimhad been spinning theories about the reasons of his mysterious, thoughvery agreeable occupation, and announced them broadly in his letter toLarkin. But he had cooled by the time he reached London, and the letterfrom Lake, received at his mother's and appointing the meeting atBrandon, quieted that mutiny.

  I never heard that Jim gave any member of the family the least troubleafterward. He handed to Lord Chelford a parcel of those clever andelaborate forgeries, with which Lake had last furnished him, with apencilled note on each, directing the date
and town at which it was to bedespatched. Years after, when Jim was emigrating, I believe Lord Chelfordgave him a handsome present.

  Lord Chelford was advised by the friend whom he consulted that he neednot make those painful particulars public, affecting only a dead man, andleading to no result.

  Lake admitted that Rachel had posted the letters in London, believingthem to be genuine, for he pretended that they were Wylder's. It is easyto look grave over poor Rachel's slight, and partly unconscious, share inthe business of the tragedy. But what girl of energy and strongaffections would have had the melancholy courage to surrender her brotherto public justice under the circumstances? Lord Chelford, who knew all,says that she 'acted nobly.'

  'Now, Joseph, being a just man, was minded to put her away privily.' The_law_ being what? That she was to be publicly stigmatised and punished.His _justice_ being what? Simply that he would have her to beneither--but screened and parted 'with privily.' Let the Pharisees whowould have _summum jus_ against their neighbours, remember that Godregards the tender and compassionate, who forbears, on occasion, to putthe law in motion, as the _just_ man.

  The good vicar is a great territorial magnate now; but his pleasures andall his ways are still simple. He never would enter Brandon as itsmaster, and never will, during Dorcas Brandon's lifetime. And althoughwith her friend, Rachel Lake, she lives abroad, chiefly in Italy andSwitzerland, Brandon Hall, by the command of its proprietor, lies alwaysat her disposal.

  I don't know whether Rachel Lake will ever marry. The tragic shadow ofher life has not chilled Lord Chelford's strong affection. Neither doesthe world know or suspect anything of the matter. Old Tamar died threeyears since, and lies in the pretty little churchyard of Gylingden. AndMark's death is, by this time, a nearly forgotten mystery.

  Jos. Larkins's speculations have not turned out luckily. The trustees ofWylder, a minor, tried, as they were advised they must, his title to FiveOaks, by ejectment. A point had been overlooked--as sometimeshappens--and Jos. Larkin was found to have taken but an estate for thelife of Mark Wylder, which terminated at his decease. The point wascarried on to the House of Lords, but the decision of 'the court below'was ultimately affirmed.

  The flexible and angry Jos. Larkin then sought to recoup himself out ofthe assets of the deceased captain; but here he failed. In hiscleverness--lest the inadequate purchase-money should upset hisbargain--he omitted the usual covenant guaranteeing the vendor's title tosell the fee-simple, and recited, moreover, that, grave doubts existingon the point, it was agreed that the sum paid should not exceed twelveyears' purchase. Jos. then could only go upon the point that it was knownto Lake at the period of the sale that Mark Wylder was dead. Unluckily,however, for Jos.'s case, one of his clever letters, written during thenegotiation, turned up, and was put in evidence, in which he pressedCaptain Lake with the fact, that he, the purchaser, was actually inpossession of information to the effect that Mark was dead, and that hewas, therefore, buying under a liability of having his title litigated,with a doubtful result, the moment he should enter into possession. Thisshut up the admirable man, who next tried a rather bold measure, directedagainst the Reverend William Wylder. A bill was filed by Messrs.Burlington and Smith, to compel him to execute a conveyance to theirclient--on the terms of the agreement. The step was evidently taken onthe calculation that he would strike, and offer a handsome compromise;but Lord Chelford was at his elbow--the suit was resisted. Messrs.Burlington and Smith did not care to run the awful risk which Mr. Larkin,behind the scenes, invited them to accept for his sake. There was first afaltering; then a bold renunciation and exposure of Mr. Jos. Larkin bythe firm, who, though rather lamely, exonerated themselves as having beenquite taken in by the Gylingden attorney.

  Mr. Jos. Larkin had a holy reliance upon his religious reputation, whichhad always stood him in stead. But a worldly judge will sometimesdisappoint the expectations of the Christian suitor; and the language ofthe Court, in commenting upon Mr. Jos. Larkin, was, I am sorry to say, inthe highest degree offensive--'flagitious,' 'fraudulent,' and kindredepithets, were launched against that tall, bald head, in a storm thatdarkened the air and obliterated the halo that usually encircled it. Hewas dismissed, in a tempest, with costs. He vanished from court, like anevil spirit, into the torture-chamber of taxation.

  The whole structure of rapine and duplicity had fallen through with adismal crash. Shrewd fellows wondered, as they always do, when a rashgame breaks down, at the infatuation of the performer. But the cup of histribulation was not yet quite full. Jos. Larkin's name was ultimatelystruck from the roll of solicitors and attorneys, and there were minuteand merciless essays in the papers, surrounding his disgrace with adreadful glare. People say he has not enough left to go on with. He hadlodgings somewhere near Richmond, as Howard Larkin, Esq., and is still areligious character. I am told that he shifts his place of residenceabout once in six months, and that he has never paid one shilling of rentfor any, and has sometimes positively received money for vacating hisabode. So substantially valuable is a thorough acquaintance with thecapabilities of the law. I saw honest Tom Wealdon about a fortnightago--grown stouter and somewhat more phlegmatic by time, but still thesame in good nature and inquisitiveness. From him I learned that Jos.Larkin is likely to figure once more in the courts about some very uglydefalcations in the cash of the Penningstal Mining Company, and that thistime the persecutions of that eminent Christian are likely to take adifferent turn, and, as Tom said, with a gloomy shrewdness, to end in'ten years penal.'

  Some summers ago, I was, for a few days, in the wondrous city of Venice.Everyone knows something of the enchantment of the Italian moon, theexpanse of dark and flashing blue, and the phantasmal city, rising like abeautiful spirit from the waters. Gliding near the Lido--where so manyrings of Doges lie lost beneath the waves--I heard the pleasant sound offemale voices upon the water--and then, with a sudden glory, rose a sad,wild hymn, like the musical wail of the forsaken sea:--

  The spouseless Adriatic mourns her lord.

  The song ceased. The gondola which bore the musicians floated by--aslender hand over the gunwale trailed its fingers in the water. Unseen Isaw Rachel and Dorcas, beautiful in the sad moonlight, passed so near wecould have spoken--passed me like spirits--never more, it may be, tocross my sight in life.