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THE CHANNINGS

A STORY

By Mrs. Henry Wood

Author Of “East Lynne,” “Johnny Ludlow,” Etc. _Two Hundred And Tenth
Thousand_


1901





CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. -- THE INKED SURPLICE.

CHAPTER II. -- BAD NEWS.

CHAPTER III. -- CONSTANCE CHANNING.

CHAPTER IV. -- NO HOLIDAY TO-DAY.

CHAPTER V. -- ROLAND YORKE.

CHAPTER VI. -- LADY AUGUSTA YORKE AT HOME.

CHAPTER VII. -- MR. KETCH.

CHAPTER VIII. -- THE ASSISTANT-ORGANIST.

CHAPTER IX. -- HAMISH’S CANDLES.

CHAPTER X. -- A FALSE ALARM.

CHAPTER XI. -- THE CLOISTER KEYS.

CHAPTER XII. -- A MISHAP TO THE BISHOP.

CHAPTER XIII. -- MAD NANCE.

CHAPTER XIV. -- KEEPING OFFICE.

CHAPTER XV. -- A SPLASH IN THE RIVER.

CHAPTER XVI. -- MUCH TO ALTER.

CHAPTER XVII. -- SUNDAY MORNING AT MR. CHANNING’S, AND AT LADY
AUGUSTA’S.

CHAPTER XVIII. -- MR. JENKINS ALIVE AGAIN.

CHAPTER XIX. -- THE LOSS.

CHAPTER XX. -- THE LOOMING OF AN AWFUL FEAR.

CHAPTER XXI. -- MR. BUTTERBY.

CHAPTER XXII. -- AN INTERRUPTED DINNER.

CHAPTER XXIII. -- AN ESCORT TO THE GUILDHALL.

CHAPTER XXIV. -- THE EXAMINATION.

CHAPTER XXV. -- A MORNING CALL.

CHAPTER XXVI. -- CHECKMATED.

CHAPTER XXVII. -- A PIECE OF PREFERMENT.

CHAPTER XXVIII. -- AN APPEAL TO THE DEAN.

CHAPTER XXIX. -- A TASTE OF “TAN.”

CHAPTER XXX. -- THE DEPARTURE.

CHAPTER XXXI. -- ABROAD.

CHAPTER XXXII. -- AN OMINOUS COUGH.

CHAPTER XXXIII. -- NO SENIORSHIP FOR TOM CHANNING.

CHAPTER XXXIV. -- GERALD YORKE MADE INTO A “BLOCK.”

CHAPTER XXXV. -- THE EARL OF CARRICK.

CHAPTER XXXVI. -- ELLEN HUNTLEY.

CHAPTER XXXVII. -- THE CONSPIRATORS.

CHAPTER XXXVIII. -- THE DECISION.

CHAPTER XXXIX. -- THE GHOST.

CHAPTER XL. -- MR. KETCH’S EVENING VISIT.

CHAPTER XLI. -- THE SEARCH.

CHAPTER XLII. -- AN OFFICIAL CEREMONY INTERRUPTED.

CHAPTER XLIII. -- DRAGGING THE RIVER.

CHAPTER XLIV. -- MR. JENKINS IN A DILEMMA.

CHAPTER XLV. -- A NEW SUSPICION.

CHAPTER XLVI. -- A LETTER FOR MR. GALLOWAY.

CHAPTER XLVII. -- DARK CLOUDS.

CHAPTER XLVIII. -- MUFFINS FOR TEA.

CHAPTER XLIX. -- A CHÂTEAU EN ESPAGNE.

CHAPTER L. -- REALLY GONE!

CHAPTER LI. -- AN ARRIVAL IN A FLY.

CHAPTER LII. -- A RELIC FROM THE BURIAL-GROUND.

CHAPTER LIII. -- THE RETURN HOME.

CHAPTER LIV. -- “THE SHIP’S DROWNED.”

CHAPTER LV. -- NEWS FROM ROLAND.

CHAPTER LVI. -- THE BROKEN PHIAL.

CHAPTER LVII. -- A GHOST AGAIN.

CHAPTER LVIII. -- BYWATER’S DANCE.

CHAPTER LIX. -- READY.

CHAPTER LX. -- IN WHAT DOES IT LIE?








     I remember the gleams and glooms that dart
     Across the schoolboy’s brain;
     The song and the silence in the heart,
     That in part are prophecies, and in part
     Are longings wild and vain.
     And the voice of that fitful song
     Sings on and is never still:
     “A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
     And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
      Strange to me now are the forms I meet
     When I visit the dear old town;
     But the native air is pure and sweet,
     And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,
     As they balance up and down,
     Are singing the beautiful song,
     Are sighing and whispering still:
     “A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
     And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”








CHAPTER I. -- THE INKED SURPLICE.

The sweet bells of Helstonleigh Cathedral were ringing out in the
summer’s afternoon. Groups of people lined the streets, in greater
number than the ordinary business of the day would have brought forth;
some pacing with idle steps, some halting to talk with one another,
some looking in silence towards a certain point, as far as the eye could
reach; all waiting in expectation.

It was the first day of Helstonleigh Assizes; that is, the day on
which the courts of law began their sittings. Generally speaking,
the commission was opened at Helstonleigh on a Saturday; but for some
convenience in the arrangements of the circuit, it was fixed this time
for Wednesday; and when those cathedral bells burst forth, they gave
signal that the judges had arrived and were entering the sheriff’s
carriage, which had gone out to meet them.

A fine sight, carrying in it much of majesty, was the procession, as it
passed through the streets with its slow and stately steps; and although
Helstonleigh saw it twice a year, it looked at it with gratified eyes
still, and made the day into a sort of holiday. The trumpeters
rode first, blowing the proud note of advance, and the long line of
well-mounted javelin men came next, two abreast; their attire that of
the livery of the high sheriff’s family, and their javelins held in
rest. Sundry officials followed, and the governor of the county gaol
sat in an open carriage, his long white wand raised in the air. Then
appeared the handsome, closed equipage of the sheriff, its four horses,
caparisoned with silver, pawing the ground, for they chafed at the slow
pace to which they were restrained. In it, in their scarlet robes and
flowing wigs, carrying awe to many a young spectator, sat the judges.
The high sheriff sat opposite to them, his chaplain by his side, in his
gown and bands. A crowd of gentlemen, friends of the sheriff, followed
on horseback; and a mob of ragamuffins brought up the rear.

To the assize courts the procession took its way, and there the short
business of opening the commission was gone through, when the judges
re-entered the carriage to proceed to the cathedral, having been joined
by the mayor and corporation. The sweet bells of Helstonleigh were
still ringing out, not to welcome the judges to the city now, but as an
invitation to them to come and worship God. Within the grand entrance
of the cathedral, waiting to receive the judges, stood the Dean of
Helstonleigh, two or three of the chapter, two of the minor canons, and
the king’s scholars and choristers, all in their white robes. The bells
ceased; the fine organ pealed out--and there are few finer organs in
England than that of Helstonleigh--the vergers with their silver maces,
and the decrepit old bedesmen in their black gowns, led the way to the
choir, the long scarlet trains of the judges held up behind: and places
were found for all.

The Rev. John Pye began the service; it was his week for chanting.
He was one of the senior minor canons, and head-master of the college
school. At the desk opposite to him sat the Rev. William Yorke, a young
man who had only just gained his minor canonry.

The service went on smoothly until the commencement of the anthem. In
one sense it went on smoothly to the end, for no person present, not
even the judges themselves, could see that anything was wrong. Mr. Pye
was what was called “chanter” to the cathedral, which meant that it was
he who had the privilege of selecting the music for the chants and other
portions of the service, when the dean did not do so himself. The anthem
he had put up for this occasion was a very good one, taken from the
Psalms of David. It commenced with a treble solo; it was, moreover, an
especial favourite of Mr. Pye’s; and he complacently disposed himself to
listen.

But no sooner was the symphony over, no sooner had the first notes of
