***




Produced by Al Haines.





                             *JOHN HERRING*

                      _A WEST OF ENGLAND ROMANCE_


                         BY SABINE BARING-GOULD

                          AUTHOR OF 'MEHALAH'



                            IN THREE VOLUMES



                                VOL. II.



                                 LONDON
                 SMITH, ELDER, & CO, 15 WATERLOO PLACE
                                  1883

                         [All rights reserved]




                               *CONTENTS*

                                   OF

                           THE SECOND VOLUME

CHAPTER

    XXI. The Cub
   XXII. Moonshine and Diamonds
  XXIII. Paste
   XXIV. The Oxenham Arms
    XXV. A Levee
   XXVI. The Shekel
  XXVII. Cobbledick's Rheumatics
 XXVIII. Caught in the Act
   XXIX. A Race
    XXX. Between Cup and Lip
   XXXI. Joyce's Patient
  XXXII. Destitute
 XXXIII. Transformation
  XXXIV. Herring's Stockings
   XXXV. Beggary
  XXXVI. Mirelle's Guests
 XXXVII. A Second Summons
XXXVIII. A Virgin Martyr
  XXXIX. Welltown
     XL. Noel!  Noel!




                            *JOHN HERRING.*



                             *CHAPTER XXI.*

                               *THE CUB.*


Mirelle was conscious of a change in Trecarrel towards her.  She ceased
to engross his attentions, which were now directed towards Orange.  She
could not recall anything she had said or done that would account for
this change.  When the Captain was alone with her, he was full of
sympathy and tenderness as before, but this was only when they were
alone.  Trecarrel argued with himself that it would be unfair and
ungentlemanly to throw her over abruptly.  He would lower her into the
water little by little, but the souse must come eventually.  Some of the
martyrs were let down inch by inch into boiling pitch, others were cast
in headlong, and the fate of the latter was the preferable, and the
judge who sentenced to it was the most humane.  Mirelle suffered.  For
the first time in her life her heart had been roused, and it threw out
its fibres towards Trecarrel for support.  She was young, an exile,
among those who were no associates, and he was the only person to whom
she could disclose her thoughts and with whom she could converse as an
equal.  He had met her with warmth and with assurances of sympathy.  Of
late he had drawn back, and she had been left entirely to herself,
whilst his attention was engrossed by Orange Tramplara.

But Orange, with no small spice of vindictiveness in her nature, urged
the Captain to show civility to Mirelle.  She knew the impression
Trecarrel had made on her cousin's heart, and, now that she was sure of
the Captain, she was ready to encourage him to play with and torture her
rival.  Women are only cruel to their own sex, and towards them they are
remorseless.

'Do speak to Mirelle, she is so lonely. She does not get on with us.
She does not understand our ways, she is Frenchified,' said Orange, with
an amiable smile.  The Captain thought this very kind of his betrothed,
and was not slow to avail himself of the permission.  Nevertheless,
Mirelle perceived the insincerity of his profession.  She was unaware of
the engagement.  This had not been talked about, and was by her
unsuspected. Orange was well aware of the fascination exerted over
Trecarrel by Mirelle: she knew that her own position with him had been
threatened, almost lost.  She was unable to forgive her cousin for her
unconscious rivalry. She did not attempt to forgive her.  She sought the
surest means of punishing her. Mirelle was uneasy and unhappy.  She
considered all that had passed between her and Trecarrel.  He had not
professed more than fraternal affection, but his manner had implied more
than his words had expressed. She became silent and abstracted, not more
than usual towards the Trampleasures, for she had never spoken more than
was necessary to them, nor had opened to them in the least, but silent
before Trecarrel, and abstracted from her work at all times.  The frank
confidence she had accorded him was withdrawn, their interchange of
ideas interrupted.  She found herself now with no one to whom she could
unfold, and she suffered the more acutely for having allowed herself to
open at all.  She began now to wish that John Herring were nearer, and
to suspect that she had not treated him with sufficient consideration.

Mirelle was not jealous of Orange: she was surprised that Captain
Trecarrel should find attractions in her.  Mirelle had formed her own
conception of her cousin's character; she thought her to be generous,
warm, and impulsive; coarse in mind and feeling, but yet kindly.  How
could a gentleman such as the Captain find charms in such a person?
Mirelle did not see the money, nor did she measure correctly the
character of Orange.

About this time young Sampson Tramplara began to annoy her with his
attentions, offered uncouthly.  The youth was perfectly satisfied with
himself, he believed himself to be irresistible and his manner to be
accomplished.  He was wont to chuck chambermaids under the chin, and to
lounge over the bar flirting with the 'young lady' at the tap, but was
unaccustomed to the society of ladies, and felt awkward in their
presence.

Mirelle at once allured and repelled him. He could not fail to admire
her beauty, but he was unable to attain ease of manner in her presence.
She seemed to surround herself with an atmosphere of frost that chilled
him when he ventured near.  After a while, when the first unfamiliarity
had worn off, through meeting frequently at meals and in the evenings,
he attempted to force himself on her notice by bragging of his doings
with dogs and horses, addressing himself to his father and mother, but
keeping an eye on Mirelle and observing the effect produced on her mind
by his exploits.

After that he ventured to address her; to admire her embroidery, her
tinsel flowers, her cut-paper lace, and to pass coarse flatteries on
them and her; and when this only froze her into frostier stiffness, to
attempt to take her by storm, by rollicking fun and insolent
familiarities.

He was hurt by the way in which she ignored him.  He never once caught
her eye when telling his best hunting exploits.  His raciest jokes did
not provoke a smile on her lips.  He could extract from her no words
save cold answers to pointed questions.

Her position in the house became daily less endurable, and she could see
no means of escape from it.  She had appealed to her guardian to allow
her to return to the convent of the Sacred Heart, but had met with a
peremptory refusal.  A fluttering hope had sprung up that Trecarrel
might be her saviour, a hope scarce formulated, indistinctly existing,
but now that had died away.

Once she appealed to Mr. Trampleasure against his son.  She begged that
he would insist on young Sampson refraining from causing her annoyance
by his impertinence. But she obtained no redress.  'My dear missie! the
boy is a good boy, full of spirit. He comes of the right stuff--true
Trampleasure, girl!  We don't set up to Carrara marble here.  You must
treat him in the right way.  Flip him over the nose with your knitting
pins, or run your needle into