CHAPTER XI.
At the door we found Mrs. Fletcher just returned from Lady Cranberry's,and eager to say a great deal which could not now be listened to.Having proved the speed of our horse, I begged the cabman to wait for aquarter of an hour, and then take us to Paddington at any fare hepleased, so long as he drove full gallop. This suited his views verynicely, and knowing Mr. Shelfer, as every one in London does--so atleast I am forced to believe--he fain would have kept me ten minutes ofthe fifteen, to tell of Charley's knowingness, how he had kept it alldark as could be, you see, Miss, and had won three hundred andtwenty-five pounds, without reckoning the odd money, Miss--
"Reckon it then, Mr. Cabman," and I ran upstairs full speed, aftertelling Mrs. Shelfer the sum, lest she should be cheated.
In five minutes I was ready, and came out of my bedroom into thesitting-room, with my hat in one hand, and a little bag in the other;and there, instead of Mrs. Fletcher, I found, whom?--Conrad!
Very pale and ill he looked, so unlike himself that I was shocked, andinstead of leaping to him, fell upon a chair. He mistook me, andapproached very slowly, but with his dear old smile: how my heart beat,how I longed to be in his arms; but they looked too weak to hold me.
"Oh, Miss Vaughan, I know everything. Will you ever forgive me?"
"Never, my own darling, while you call me that. Forgive you indeed! CanI ever forgive myself, for the evil I have thought of you? How very illyou look! Come and let me kiss you well."
But instead of my doing that, he had to do it for me; for I was quitebeaten at last, and fainted away in his arms. By this folly fiveminutes were lost; and I had so much to say to him, and more to think ofthan twenty such heads could hold. But he seemed to think that it mustbe all right, so long as he had me there.
"Oh, Conny," I said through my tears at last, "my own pet Conny, comewith me. Your father is in such danger."
"Life of my heart, I will follow you by the very next train. This one Icannot go by."
I could wait for no explanation, and he seemed inclined to give none.Perhaps this was the reason that he spent all the time in kissing me;which, much as I enjoyed it, would have done quite as well at leisure.Be that as it may, there was no time to talk about it; he said it didhis lips good, and I believe it did, they were so pale at first, and nowso fine a red. Suddenly in the midst of it, a great voice was heardfrom the passage:
"Why now, what ever be us to do with the chillers?"
Out I ran, with my hair down as usual, and a great flush in my cheeks,but I did not let any one see me.
"Leave them here, to be sure, leave them here, Mr. Huxtable. They shallhave my rooms; and in all London they would not find such a hostess asMrs. Shelfer."
There was no time to consider it. The throat of hurry is large, andgulps almost any suggestion. Away we went full gallop; the farmer wason the box,--how the driver found room I can't say,--Mrs. Fletcher and Iinside, all consulting her watch every minute. Across the Regent's Park,scattering the tame wild ducks, past Marylebone Church, and theYorkshire Stingo, and Edgware Road--we saved it by just two minutes.Although I had taken his ticket, the farmer would not come with us, butwent in a second-class carriage.
"They blue featherbeds trimmed with pig's tails, is too good for thelikes of I, Miss Clara; and I should be afeared all the wai that theMissus was rating of me for my leg-room. I paid parlour price comingup, and went in the kitchen waggons, because it zim'd only fair, as Itakes such a dale of room."
I knew that none ever could turn him from what he considered just, andtherefore allowed him to ride where he pleased. But a dozen times Ithought we should have lost him on the way; for at every station, wherethe train stopped, he made a point of coming to our window, which he hadmarked with a piece of chalk, and "humbly axing our pardon, but was weall right and no fire? He couldn't think what they wanted, not he, withtempting God Almighty fast." Not fast enough for me, I told him everytime; whereupon he put on his hat with a sigh, and said he supposed Iwas born to it. And yet all the time he seemed to consider that he wasprotecting me somehow, and once he called me his dearie, to the greatsurprise of the other passengers, and the horror of Mrs. Fletcher;seeing which he repented hastily, and "Miss Vaughan'd" me three times ina sentence, with a hot flush on his forehead. At Swindon, where wechanged carriages, he pulled out very mysteriously from an innerbreast-pocket a little sack tied with whipcord, and in which, I dobelieve, the simple soul had deposited all his hard-earned prize-money.Then he led us to the counter, proud to show that he had been therebefore, and earnestly begged for the honour of treating us to a drop ofsomewhat. His countenance fell so on my refusal, that I was fain tocancel it, and to drink at his expense a glass of iced sherry and water;while Mrs. Fletcher, with much persuasion and simpering, and for thesake of her poor inside, that had been so long her enemy, ventured on a"wee wee thimbleful of Cognac." The farmer himself, much abashed at thesplendour around him, which he told me, in a whisper, beat Pewter Will'sout and out, and even the "Fortescue Arms," would not call for anything,until I insisted upon it; being hard pressed he asked at last, hoping nooffence of the lady, for a pint of second cider. The young woman turnedup her nose, but I soon made her turn it down again, and fetch him, asthe nearest thing, a bottle of sparkling perry.
As always happens, when one is in a great hurry, the train was an hourbehind its time, and the setting sun was casting gold upon the oldcathedral--to my mind one of the lightest and grandest buildings inEngland, though the farmer prefers that squat and heavy Norman thing atExeter--when we glided smoothly and swiftly into the Gloucester Station.I fully intended to have sent an electric message from London, not forthe sake of the carriage, which mattered nothing, but to warn my dearuncle; at Paddington, however, we found no time to do it, and so stupidI was that I never once thought of telegraphing from Swindon. To makeup by over alacrity, in a case of far less importance, I went to theoffice at Gloucester, and sent this message to Tiverton, then thenearest Station to Exmoor--"Farmer has won, and got the money. ClaraVaughan to Mrs. Huxtable." The amazement of the farmer, I cannot stopto describe.
No time was lost by doing this, for I had ordered a pair of horses, andthey were being put to. Then, stimulating the driver, we dashed off forVaughan St. Mary. Anxious as I was, and wretched at the thought of whatwe might find, so exhausted was my frame by the thaumatrope of the lastsix-and-thirty hours, that I fell fast asleep, and woke not until wecame to the lodge. Old Whitehead came out, hat in hand, and whisperedsomething into Mrs. Fletcher's ear. That good old lady had beenworrying me dreadfully about her jams, for the weather was so hot, shewas sure all the fruit would be over, &c., none of which could I listento now. As Whitehead spoke, I saw through my half-open lashes that shestarted violently; but she would not tell me what it was, and I did notwant to intrude on secrets that might be between them. The farmer alsodiverted attention by calling from the box, as we wound into the avenue,"Dear heart alaive; this bate all the sojers as ever I see, Miss Clara,or even the melisher to Coom. Why, arl thiccy treeses must a growed soa puppose, just over again one another, and arl of a bigness too. Wull,wull! Coachman, was ever you to Davonsheer?"
I do believe those men of Devon see nothing they admire, withoutthinking at once of their county.
At the front door, the butler met us, which surprised me rather, asbeing below his dignity. He was a trusty old servant, who had beenunder Thomas Henwood, and had come back to his place since the generalturn-out of the household. Now he looked very grave and sad, andinstead of leading me on, drew me aside in the hall. It was gettingdark, and the fire in the west was dying. Great plumes ofasparagus--shame it was to cut them--waved under the ancientmantel-piece.
"Bad news it is, Miss Clara"--they all seemed to call me that--"very badnews indeed, Miss. But I hope you was prepared for it."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, haven't you heard about poor master's death?"
"Dead, my dear uncle dead!
Do you mean to say"--I could not finish thesentence.
"No, Miss, only to-day, and not as you thinks; no fit at all, norparalyatic stroke. He went off quiet as a lamb, as near as could bethree o'clock. He was very poorly before; but he had a deal to do, andwould not give in on no account. He was sitting by himself in the studyafter breakfast, and at last he rang the bell, and told them to send meup. When I went in, he was bolt upright in his chair, with a beautifulsmile on his face, but so pale, white I ought to say, Miss, and so weakhe could hardly move. 'John,' he says, 'Yes, Sir,' says I; 'John,' hesays again, 'you are a most respectable man, and I can trust you withanything in the world, John. Take this letter for Miss Vaughan, and putit with your own hands into her own, directly the moment she comes back.I am rather uneasy about the poor girl,' he says, as it were to himself.'Which Miss Vaughan, Sir?' says I. 'Your mistress, John. Can't you seewhat is written on it? And now help me upstairs; and if ever I spoke toyou harshly, John Hoxton, I ask your pardon for it. You will find as Ihaven't forgotten you.' And with that I helped him upstairs, Miss, andI had almost to carry him; and then he says, 'Help me to bed, John. Iwould like to die in my bed, and it will save some trouble. And let melook out of the window; what a lovely day it is, it reminds me quite ofthe South. So I set him up in the bed, Miss, handy altogether, andbeautiful, and he could see two larks on the lawn, and he asked me whatthey was. Then he says, 'Thank you, John, you have done it wonderfulwell, and I hope they won't speak evil of me round this place, after Iam gone. I have tried to do my duty, John, as between man and man:though I would be softer with them, if I had my time over again. Nowsend my daughter to me, though I wish I had seen my son, John. But Iought to be very thankful, and what's more, I am. All of you likes MissLily, unless they tell me stories, John.' 'Sir,' says I, 'we wusshipsher, though not like our own Miss Vaughan.'"
Ah, John Hoxton, did you say that to him, I wonder, or interpolate, _expost facto_?
"So he looked very pleased at that, Miss, and he says again, 'John, letall that love her know that she is the living image of her mother. Nowgo and send her quickly; but John, take care not to frighten my littledarling.' So I went and found Miss Lily got along with the Shetlandpony and giving it bits of clover, and I sent her up and Jane too, for Iwas dreadfully frightened, and you away, Miss, at the time. And whatcome afterwards I can't tell, only no luncheon went up, and there wasorders not to ring the bell for the servants' dinner; and I heard poorMiss Lily crying terrible all along the corridor, and I did hear saythat his last words was, and he trying to raise his arms toward thewindow, 'Blessed be God, I can see my own Lily,' but she warn't thatside of the bed, Miss; so he must have made some mistake."
"No. He meant her mother. Where is my cousin now?"
"In your own room, Miss, lying down, they tell me. She did take on soawful, Jane thought she would have died. But at last she brought herround a little, and persuaded her to lie down. She calls for you, Miss,every time she comes to herself."
I went straightway to the poor little dear, without even stopping toread the letter placed in my hands. The room in which she lay was dark;for Jane, who was watching in my little parlour, whispered to me thatthe poor child could not bear the lamp-light, her eyes were so weak andsore.
At first Lily did not know me; and it went to my heart, after all my owngreat sorrows, to hear the sad low moaning. She lay on my own littlebed, with her pale face turned to the wall, her thick hair all over hershoulders, and both hands pressed to her heart. Annie Franks had beenmany times to ask for her, but Lily would not let her come in. Bendingover I laid my cheek on Lily's, and softly whispered her name. At lastshe knew me, and took my hand, and turned her sweet lips to kiss me.Then she sobbed and cried most bitterly; but I saw that it did her good.By and by she said, with her fingers among my hair:
"Oh, Clara, isn't it hard to find him at last, and love him so, and onlyfor three days, and then, and then--"
"And then, my pet, to let him go where his heart has been nearly twentyyears. Would you be so selfish as to rob your mother of him? And to goso happy. I am sure he has. Come with me and see."
"Oh no, oh no. I cannot." And her lovely young form trembled, at thethought of visiting death.
"Yes, you can, if you only try, and I am sure that he would wish it.That you and I should kneel hand in hand and bless him, as others shallkneel some day by us. What, Lily afraid of her father! Then I have nofear of my Uncle."
God knows that I spoke so, not from harshness, only in the hope to doher good.
"If you really think he would wish it, dear--"
"Yes. It is a duty I owe him. He would be disappointed in me, if Ifailed."
"Oh, how he longed to see you once more, dear Clara, But he felt thatyou were safe, and he said you would come to see him, though he couldnot see you. He talked of you quite to the last; you and darlingConny."
"Conny will be here to-night."
"No! Oh I am so glad!" and a bright flash of joy shone forth from theeyes that were red with weeping. Something cold pushed quietly inbetween us, and then gave a sniff and a sigh. It was darling Judy'snose. He had learned in the lower regions, where he always dwelled inmy absence, that Miss Clara was come home; and knowing my name as wellas his own, he had set off at once in quest of me. After offering mehis best love and respects, with the tip of his tongue, as he alwaysdid, he looked from one to the other of us, with his eyebrows raised insurprise, and the deepest sorrow and sympathy in his beautifulsoft-brown pupils. I declare it made us cry more than ever.
"Oh, Clara," sobbed Lily at length, "he did howl so last night. Do youthink he could have known it?"
His eyes dropped, as she was telling me. They always did, when hethought he had been a bad dog.
"Now go down, Judy; good little Judy, go to Mrs. Fletcher. A greatfriend of mine is with her."
Away he trotted obediently, and his tail recovered its flourish beforehe had got to the corner.
"Now, darling, let us go there," said the poor child, trembling again."I would go anywhere with you."
Hand in hand we walked into my Uncle's chamber. Young as I was, andstill thoughtless in many ways, twice before now had I gazed on thesolemn face of death; but never, not even in my mother's holycountenance, saw I such perfect peace and bliss as dwelt in and seemedto smile from my dearest Uncle's lineaments. The life, in youth puffedhere and there by every captious breeze of pride, in its prime becalmedawhile on the halycon deep of love, then tempest-tossed through thelonely dark, and shattered of late by blows from God, that life whoseflaw of misanthropy and waste of high abilities had been redeemed,ennobled even, by a pure and perfect love--now it had bidden farewell toall below the clouds, calmly, happily, best of all--in faith.
We knelt beside the bed and prayed--Lily as a Catholic, Clara as aProtestant--that we, and all we loved, might have so blest an end. Thenwe both sat peacefully, with a happy awe upon us, in the dark recessbehind the velvet curtains. Two wax candles were burning on the tabletowards the door, and by their light the face we loved, looked not wan,but glorious, as with a silver glory.
Clasping each the other's waist, and kissing away each other's tranquiltears, how long we sat there I know not, neither what high flutteringthoughts, thoughts or angels, which be they--stealthily a door wasopened, not the door of heaven, not even the main door of the room wesat in, but a narrow side-door. Through it crept, with crawlingcaution, he whom most of all men I now despised and pitied. Lily didnot hear his entrance, neither did she see him; but my eyes and earswere keen from many a call of danger. Stunned for a while by the heavyblow, that met me on my return, I had forgotten all about him; I mean,at least, all about his present design. I had indeed told the farmer,for it was only fair to do so, my object in bringing him down; and how Irelied on his wonderful strength and courage, having then no other tohelp me; but since I got home, and heard the sad tidings, it seemed amere thing for contempt. Not even Lepardo Della Croce could catch adeparted spirit. So,
and in the landslip of the mind, sapped by itsown, and sliding swiftly into another's sorrow, I had not even orderedthat the house should be watched at all; I had not even posted Giudice,who had a vendetta of his own, anywhere on guard.
With a stiletto still concealed, all but the handle on which the lightfell, he approached the bed, wriggling along and crouching, as a cat orleopard would. Then he rose and stood upright at the side of the bed,not our side but the other, and glared upon his intended victim's face.I pushed Lily back behind the curtain as if with the weight of my bosom,while I watched the whole. Never in all my tempestuous life, of all thehorrible things I have seen, and heard, and shuddered at, saw I anythingso awful, so utterly beyond not only description, but conception, asthat disdainful, arrogant face, when the truth burst on him. Not thebody only, but the mind and soul--if God had cursed him with one--weresmitten back all of a lump, as if he had leaped from a train at fullspeed into a firing cannon's mouth. Before he had time to recover, Iadvanced and faced him. All dressed in white I was, with my black hairbelow my waist, for I had thrown off my travelling frock, and taken whatfirst came to hand. They tell me I look best in white, it shows my hairand eyes so.
He believed that it was a spirit, the Vendetta spirit of the other side;and he cowered from me. I was the first to speak. "Lepardo DellaCroce, it is the rebuke of heaven. Dust upon ashes; such is man'srevenge. I have nursed, but scorn it now. Go in peace, and pray theAlmighty that He be not like you. Stop; I will show you forth. Youhave a vindictive foe here, who would tear you to atoms."
I led the way, trembling at every corner lest we should meet Giudice;for I knew he would not obey me, if he once caught sight of this hatedone. After standing silently, unable to take his eyes from the placidface of the dead, Lepardo began to follow me, walking as if in a dream.Meeting none, I led him forth along the corridor, down the endstaircase, and out on the eastern terrace. There I waved him off, andpointed to the dark refuge of the shrubbery, beyond the mineral spring.The moonlight slept upon the black water narrowly threading the grass.Over our heads drooped the ivy, the creeper of oblivion. The murdererturned and looked at me; hitherto he had glided along with his headdown, as in bewilderment. Oh that he had said one word of sorrow orrepentance! He spoke not at all; but shuddered, as the ivy rustledabove us. His face was pale as the moonlight. Did he see in mesomething higher than the spirit of Vendetta?
I pointed again to the trees, and urged him away from the house. He hadtwo strong enemies there; a minute might make all the difference.Breaking as if from a spell, he waved his Italian cap, and his lithestrong figure was lost among the Portugal laurels. For a minute I stoodthere, wondering; then slowly went round the house-corner, and gazed atthe grey stone mullions of the room which had been my father's.
I was still in the anguish of doubt and misgiving--what right had anignorant girl like me to play judge and jury, or more, to absolve andrelease a crime against all humanity?--when a mighty form stood besideme, and Giudice, all bristle and fire, dashed forth from the door in thegable. With command and entreaty I called him, but he heard me not,neither looked at me; but scoured the ground like a shadow, quarteringit as a pointer does, only he carried his nose down.
"Dang my slow bones," said the farmer, "but I'll have him yet, Miss. Iseed him go, I'll soon find him."
"No, no. I won't have him stopped. He shall go free, and repent."
"By your lave, Miss, it can't be. A man as have done what he have, ushas no right to play buff with. Never before did I go again your will,Miss; but axing your pardon, I must now. Look, the girt dog knowbetter."
As the dog found the track and gave tongue, the farmer rushed from meand followed him, dashing headlong into the shrubbery, after leaping themineral spring, at the very spot where the footprints had been. Judy andFarmer Huxtable were fast friends already; for that dog always made uphis mind in a moment on the question of like and dislike.
For a time I was so horror-struck, that no power of motion was left. Iknew that the farmer was quite unarmed, he carried not even a stick.Even with the great dog to help him, what could he do against fire-arms,which Lepardo was sure to have? What should I say to his wife andchildren, what should I say to myself, if John Huxtable fell a victim tothat wily and desperate criminal?
Resolved to be present, if possible, I rushed down the narrow path whichled to the little park-gate, where probably they would pass. I wasright: they had passed, and flung it wide open. Breathless I lookedaround, for hence several tracks diverged. No living thing could I seeor hear, but the beating of my heart, which seemed to be in my throat,and the hooting of an owl from the hollow elm at the corner. I flungmyself down on the dewy grass, and strained my eyes in vain; until bysome silver birch-trees on which the moonlight was glancing, I saw firsta gliding figure that looked like a deer in the distance, then a tallman running rapidly. Away I made by a short cut for the "Witches'grave," as the end of the lake was called, for I knew that the path theywere on led thither. Quite out of breath I was, for I had run more thanhalf a mile, when I came full upon a scene, which would have robbed meof breath if I had any. At the end of a little dingle, under awillow-tree, and within a few feet of the water, stood Lepardo DellaCroce, brought to bay at last. A few yards from him, Giudice wasstruggling furiously to escape the farmer's grasp; perhaps no other handin England could have held him. His eyes kindled in the moonlight, likethe red stars of a rocket, and a deep roar of baffled rage came from thesurge of his chest, as he champed his monstrous fangs, and volleyed allthe spring of his loins. The farmer leaned backward to hold him, andstayed himself by a tree-stump.
"Sharp now, surrender, wull e, man. In the name of of the Quane and theLord Chafe Justice, and the High Shariff of Devon, I tell esurrender--dang this here dog--surrender, and I 'ont hoort e; and I 'ontlet the girt dog."
Lepardo answered calmly, in a voice that made my blood cold:
"Do you value your life? If so, stand out of my way. I have death herefor you, and five other dogs."
I saw the barrel of a large revolver, with a stream of light upon it.He held it steadily as a tobacco-pipe. I am glad he owned some courage.For my life, I could not stir. All the breath in my body was gone.
"Dear heart alaive. Thiccy man must be a fule," said the farmer quitecontemplatively. "Don't e know who I be? Do e reckon they pepperminttwistesses can hurt Jan Uxtable? I seed ever so many in a smarl shopwindow to Lunnon. Surrender now wull e, thou shalt have fair traial toHexeter, as a Davonshire man have took e, and a dale more nor edesarves. Sharp now: I be afeared of the girt dog getting loose. Dangyou dog. Ston up a bit." And the farmer approached him coolly,trailing the dog along; as if what the murderer held in his hand was astick of Spanish liquorice.
"Fool, if you pass that stump, your great carcase shall lie on it."
"Fire away," said the farmer, "I knowed you was a coward, and I be gladit be so. Now mind, if so be you shuts, I lets the dog go, honourbraight, because e dunno what fair play be. But if e harken to rason,I'll give e one chance more. I'll tie up the dog with my braces tothiccy tree--allers wear cart rope I does--and I'll tak e Quane'sprisoner, with my left hond, and t'other never out of my breechespocket; look e, zee, laike thiccy."
And the farmer buried his right hand in his capacious trowsery. TheCorsican seemed astonished.
"Fool-hardy clown, worthy son of a bull-headed country, stop at thestump--then, take that."
Out blazed the pistol with a loud ring, and I saw that the farmer wasstruck. He let go the dog, and leaped up; his right hand fell onLepardo's temple, and seemed to crush the skull in,--another shot at thesame instant and down fell the farmer heavily. "Great God," I screamed,and leaped forward. But Giudice was loose to avenge him, though I couldswear that it was on a corpse. Corpse or living body, over and over itrolled, with the dog's fangs in its throat. I heard a gurgle, atearing, and grinding, and then a loud splash in the water. The dog, andthe murderer, both of man and dog, sunk in the lake toge
ther. Twentyfeet out from the shore rose above water one moment, drawn ghastly whitein the moonbeams, the last view seen till the judgment-day of the faceof Lepardo Della Croce.
Almost drowned himself--for he would not release his father's murderer,while a gasp was in him--staggered at last to the shore my noble andtrue dog Giudice. He fell down awhile, to recover his breath, thenshook himself gratefully, tottered to me, where I knelt at the farmer'sside, and wagged his tail for approval. The water from his chest andstomach dripped on the farmer's upturned face, and for a moment revivedhim.
"No belt, no tino lad, I 'ont tak' it. Zimth laike a ticket forchating. I dunno as I'd tak' the mony, if it warn't for the poorchillers, naine chillers now, and anither a-coomin. Mustn't drink nomore beer, but Beany shall have his'n." And his head fell back on mylap, and I felt sure that he was dead. How I screamed and shrieked,till I lay beside him, with Judy licking my face, none can tell but thegamekeepers, who had heard the shots, and came hurrying.
Of this lower end of the lake they happened to be most jealous; for abrood of pintail ducks, very rare I believe in England, had been hatchedhere this summer, and no one was allowed to go near them. Poor Judykept all the men aloof, till I was able to speak to him. Then Iperceived that he as well was bleeding, wounded perhaps by the poniardas he leaped on his enemy's breast. It had entered just under theshoulder, and narrowly missed the heart.
They took us at once towards the house, carrying the farmer and Judy onthe wooden floodgates of the stream called the "Witches' brook," whichhere fell into the lake. As we entered the avenue, being obliged totake the broad way, though much further round, we heard a carriagecoming. It was the one I had sent for Conrad, with a hurried note tobreak the sad news of his father's death. He had been detained inLondon by a challenge he found from Lepardo; which was of course astratagem to keep him out of the way. How delighted I was to see hiscalm brave face again, as he leaped down, and took my tottering form inhis arms. In a minute he understood everything, and knew what was bestto be done. He would not allow them to place the poor farmer in thecarriage, as they foolishly wanted to do; but laid the rude litter down,examined the wounds by the lamplight, and bound them up most cleverlywith the appliances of the moment.
"Oh, Conrad, will he die?"
"No, my darling, I hope not; but he must if they had let him bleed somuch longer."
"I never heard that you were a surgeon, Conny."
"Could I call myself a sculptor, without having studied anatomy? Mydearest one, how you tremble! Go home in the carriage, and givedirections for us. A room downstairs, with a wide doorway, and plentyof air. I will stay with them, and see that they bear him gently. PoorJudy may go with you."
Thus Conrad saw for the first time the hearth and home of his ancestors,with his father lying dead there, and his avenger carried helpless. ButI met him at the door. Did that comfort you just a little, my darling?
Clara Vaughan, Volume 3 (of 3) Page 20