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COLLECTION
OF
BRITISH AUTHORS


TAUCHNITZ EDITION.

=============

VOL. 966.

THE RED COURT FARM.

BY
MRS. HENRY WOOD.

IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. 2.



LEIPZIG: BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ.
PARIS: C. REINWALD & CIE, 15, RUE DES SAINTS-PÈRES.
PARIS: THE GALIGNANI LIBRARY, 224, RUE DE RIVOLI,
     AND AT NICE, 48, QUAI ST. JEAN BAPTISTE.


_This Collection is, published with copyright for Continental
circulation, but all purchasers are earnestly requested not to
introduce the volumes into England or into any British Colony_.






COLLECTION
OF
BRITISH AUTHORS.

VOL. 966.
---------
THE RED COURT FARM BY MRS. HENRY WOOD.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.






THE
RED COURT FARM.

A NOVEL.

BY
MRS. HENRY WOOD,
AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," "TREVLYN HOLD," ETC.


_COPYRIGHT EDITION_.

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.



LEIPZIG
BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
1868.

_The Right of Translation is reserved_.







CONTENTS

OF VOLUME II.

CHAP.
      I. At School in London.
     II. Captain Copp.
    III. Isaac Thornycroft's Stratagem.
     IV. In Love.
      V. Wilful Disobedience.
     VI. The Half-moon Beach.
    VII. My Lady at the Red Court.
   VIII. A Last Interview.
     IX. The Crowd in the Early Morning.
      X. Shot down from the Heights.
     XI. The Coroner's Inquest.
    XII. Robert Hunter's Funeral.
   XIII. Curious Rumours.
    XIV. Robert Hunter's Ghost.
     XV. In the Churchyard Porch.
    XVI. In the Dog-cart to Jutpoint.
   XVII. Ladies disputing.
  XVIII. Disclosing it to Justice Thornycroft.






THE RED COURT FARM.



PART THE THIRD.




CHAPTER I.
At School in London.


Two years have gone by, and it is June again.

A good, substantial house in one of the western suburbs of the
metropolis--Kensington. By the well-rubbed brass plate on the iron
gate of the garden, and the lady's name on it--"Miss Jupp"--it may be
taken for a boarding-school. In fact, it is one: a small select school
(as so many schools proclaim themselves now; but this really is such);
and, kept by Miss Jupp, once of Katterley. That is, by Miss Jupp and
two of her sisters, but she wisely calls it by her own name singly,
avoiding the ugly style of the plural "Miss Jupp's establishment."

Fortune changes with a great many of us; every day, every hour of our
lives, some are going up, others down. When death removed old Mr. Jupp
(an event that occurred almost close upon poor Mrs. Lake's), then his
daughters found that they had not enough to get along in the world.
Wisely taking time and circumstances by the forelock, the three elder
ones, Mary, Margaret, and Emma, removed to London, took a good house
at Kensington, and by the help of influential friends very soon had
pupils in it. Dorothy and Rose were married; Louisa remained at
Katterley with her widowed mother. They professed to take ten pupils
only: once or twice the number had been increased to twelve; the terms
were high, but the teaching was good, and the arrangements were really
first-class. It was with the Miss Jupps that Mary Anne Thornycroft had
been placed. And she did not run away from them.

Quite the contrary. The summer holidays have just set in, and she is
to go home for them; as she did the previous midsummer; but she is
expressing a half wish, now as she stands before Miss Margaret Jupp,
that she could spend them where she is, in London. Long and long ago
has she grown reconciled to the regularity of a school life, and to
regard Miss Jupp's as a second and happy home. She spent the first
Christmas holidays with them; the second Christmas (last) at
Cheltenham with her stepmother; she and her brother Cyril.

Lady Ellis (retaining still the name) is in very ill health now.
Almost simultaneously with quitting the Red Court after her marriage,
a grave inward disorder manifested itself. Symptoms of it indeed had
been upon her for some time, even before leaving India; but--as is the
case with many other symptoms--they had been entirely disregarded,
their grave nature unsuspected. Instead of leading a gay life at the
gay inland watering-place, flaunting her charms and her fashion in the
eyes of other sojourners, Lady Ellis found herself compelled to live a
very quiet one. She has a small villa, an establishment of two
servants only; and she does not wish for more. In heart, in nature,
she is growing altered, and the refining, holy influence that very
often--God be praised!--changes the whole heart and spirit with a
change which is not of this world, is coming over her. Two visits only
has she paid to the Red Court Farm, staying about six weeks each time,
and Mr. Thornycroft goes to Cheltenham two or three times a year. Miss
Thornycroft and her stepmother are civil to each other now, not to say
friendly; and when she invited the young lady and her brother Cyril
for the holidays last Christmas, they went. The previous midsummer
they had spent together at Coastdown, it having been one of the
periods of my lady's two visits. Fortune had contrived well for Lady
Ellis, and her marriage with the wealthy master of the Red Court Farm
enabled her to enjoy every substantial comfort in her hour of need.

Two other young ladies connected in a degree with this history are at
Miss Jupp's this evening; the rest of the pupils have left. One of the
two we have met before, one not. They are in the room now, and you may
look at them. All three, including Miss Thornycroft, are about the
same age--between eighteen and nineteen. She, Mary Anne, is the same
tall, stately, fair, handsome, and (it must be owned) haughty girl
that you knew before; the fine face is resolute as ever, the cold blue
eyes as honest and uncompromising. She had been allowed to dress as
expensively at Miss Jupp's as her inclination leads: to-day she wears
a rich pale-blue silk; blue ribbons are falling from her fair hair.
She is standing doing nothing: but sitting in a chair by her side,
toying with a bit of fancy-work, is a plain, dark, merry-looking girl
in a good useful nut-brown silk, Susan Hunter. She is the sister of
Robert Hunter, several years his junior, and has been sent up from
Yorkshire by her aunt, with whom she lives, to have two years of
"finish" at a London school. Accident--not their having once known
something of her brother--led to the school fixed on being Miss
Jupp's. And now for the last.

In a grey alpaca dress, trimmed with a little ribbon velvet of the
same hue, her head bent patiently over a pile of drawings that she is
touching up, sits the third. A very different footing in the school,
hers, from that of the other two; _they_ pay the high, full terms;
_she_ pays nothing, but works out her board with industry. Have you
forgotten that pale, gentle face, one of the sweetest both in feature
and expression ever looked upon, with the fine silky chestnut hair
modestly braided round it, and the soft brown eyes that take all the
best feelings of a genuine heart by storm? The weary look telling of
incessant industry, the pile of work that she does not look up from,
the cheap holiday-dress (her best) costing little, all proclaim
sufficiently her dependent position in the house--a slight, graceful
girl of middle height, with a sort of drooping look in her figure, as
if she were, and had been all her life, in the habit of being pushed
into the background?

It is Anna Chester. Her life since we saw her has been like that
of a dray horse. Mrs. Chester placed her at an inferior school as
pupil-teacher, where she had many kinds of things to do, and the
mistress's own children to take care of in the holidays. For a year
and a half she stayed at it, doing her best patiently, and then the
Miss Jupps took her. She has to work very much still, and her health
is failing. Captain and Mrs. Copp have invited her to Coastdown for a
change, and she goes down to-morrow with Miss Thornycroft. Miss Hunter
spends the holidays at school.

Mrs. Chester? Mrs. Chester quitted Guild, to set up a fashionable
boarding-house in London. It did not answer; the mass of people
remained cruelly indifferent to its advertisements; and the few who
tried it ran away and never paid her. She then removed to Paris, where
(as some friends assured her) a good English boarding-house was much
wanted; and, if her own reports are to be trusted, she is likely to do
pretty well at it.

There remains only one more person to mention of those we formerly
knew; and that is Robert Hunter. Putting his shoulder to the wheel in
earnest, as only a resolute and capable man can put it; I had almost
said as one only who has some expiation to work out; his days are
spent in hard industry. He is the practical energetic man of business;
never spending a moment in waste, never willingly allowing himself
recreation. The past folly, the past idleness of that time, not so
very long gone by, recurs to his memory less frequently than it used,
but ever with the feeling of a nightmare. He is still with the same
firm, earning a liberal salary. Since a day or two only has he been in
London, but there's some talk of his remaining in it now. Nothing
seems to be further from his thoughts than any sort of pleasure: it
would seem that he has one vocation alone in life--work.

These three young ladies were going out this afternoon. To a grand
house, too: Mrs. Macpherson's. The professor, good simple man, had
been content, socially speaking, with a shed on the top of Aldgate
pump: not so madam. As the professor rose more and more into
distinction, _she_ rose; and the residence in Bloomsbury was exchanged
for a place at Kensington. Possibly the calling occasionally on the
Miss Jupps, had put it into her head. A house as grand as its name
in the matter of decoration; but not of undue size: Mrs. Macpherson
had good common sense, and generally exercised it. A dazzling white
front with a pillared portico and much ornamentation outside and
in--"Majestic Villa." The professor had wanted to change the name, but
madam preferred to retain it. It was not very far from Miss Jupp's,
and these young ladies were going there to spend the evening.

In all the glory of her large room, with its decorations of white and
gold, its mirrors, its glittering cabinets, its soft luxurious carpet,
its chairs of delicate green velvet, sat Mrs. Macpherson, waiting for
these young guests. In all her own glory of dress, it may be said, for
that was not less conspicuous than of yore, and that of to-day looked
just as if it were chosen to accord with the hangings--a green satin
robe with gold leaves for trimmings, and a cap that could not be seen
for sprays and spangles. In her sense of politeness--and she possessed
an old-fashioned stock of it--Mrs. Macpherson had dressed herself
betimes, not to leave the young ladies alone after they came. Thus,
when they arrived, under the convoy of Miss Emma Jupp, who left them
at the door, Mrs. Macpherson was ready to receive them.

It was the first time they had been there for many weeks; for the
professor had been abroad on a tour in connexion with some of the
ologies, as his wife expressed it, in which she had accompanied him.
The result of this was, that Mrs. Macpherson had no end of Parisian
novelties, in the shape of dress, to display to them in her chamber.

"I know what girls like," she said, in her hearty manner, "and that
is, to look at new bonnets and mantles, and try 'em on."

But Mary Anne Thornycroft--perhaps because she could indulge in such
articles at will--cared not a jot for these attractions, and said she
should go down to see the professor.

He had some rooms at the back of the house, where his collection of
scientific curiosities--to call things by a polite name--had been
stowed. And here the professor, when not out, spent his time. Mary
Anne quite loved the man, so simple-minded and yet great-minded at one
and the same time, and never failed to penetrate to his rooms when
occasion offered. Quickly wending her way through the passages, she
opened the door softly.

It was not very easy to distinguish clearly at first, what with the
crowd of things darkening the windows, and the mass of objects
generally. At a few yards' distance, slightly bending over a sort of
upright desk, as if writing something, stood a gentleman; but
certainly not the professor. His back was towards her; he had
evidently not heard her enter, and a faint flush of surprise dawned on
Mary Anne's face, for in that first moment she thought it was her
brother Cyril. It was the same youthful, supple, slender figure; the
same waving hair, of a dark auburn, clustering round the head above
the collar of the coat. Altogether, seen in this way, there was a
certain resemblance; and that was the first primary link in the chain
that attracted Mary Anne to him. The door, which she had left open,
closed with a slight bang, and the gentleman spoke, without lifting
his head.

"I have worked it out at last. You were right about its being less
than the other."

"Is Dr. Macpherson not here?"

He turned sharply at the words, a pencil in his hand, surprise on his
face. A good face; for its old gay careless look had departed for
ever, and the dark blue eyes--darker even than of yore--wore a serious
gravity that never left them, a gravity born of remorse. The face was
older than the figure, and not in the least like Cyril Thornycroft's;
it looked fully its seven-and-twenty years--nay, looked nearer thirty;
but all its expression was merged in surprise. No wonder; to see a
beautiful girl in blue silk, with blue ribbons in her fair hair,
standing there; when he had only expected the professor, in his old
threadbare coat and spectacles. It was Robert Hunter.

"I beg your pardon," he said, coming forward. "Can I do anything for
you?"

"I thought Dr. Macpherson was here. I came to see him."

Never losing her calm self-possession on any occasion, as so many
young ladies do on no occasion at all, Miss Thornycroft stepped up to
the side glass cases to examine the curiosities, talking as easily to
him as though she had known him all her life. Without being in the
least free, there was an openness of manner about her, an utter
absence of tricks and affectation, a straightforward independence,
rather remarkable in a young lady. For Robert Hunter it possessed a
singular charm.

Before the professor came in, who had forgotten himself down in his
cellar, where he had gone after a cherished specimen in the frog line;
before Mr. Hunter had pointed out to her a quarter of the new
acquisitions in the glass cases--animal, vegetable, and mineral--they
knew all about each other: that he was Susan Hunter's brother, and
that she was Miss Thornycroft of Coastdown. At mention of her name, a
brief vision connected with the past floated across Robert Hunter's
brain--of a certain summer evening when he was returning to Guild with
his poor young wife, and saw the back of a high open carriage bowling
away from his sister's gate, which he was told contained Mr. and Miss
Thornycroft. Never since that had he heard the name or thought of the
people.

"Do you know, when I came into the room just now, and you were
standing with your back to me, I nearly took you for one of my
brothers. At the back you are just like him."

Robert Hunter smiled slightly. "And not in the face?"

"Not at all--except, perhaps, a little in the forehead. Cyril has
hazel eyes and small features. The hair is exactly like his, the same
colour, and grows just as his does in front, leaving the forehead
square. If you were to hide your face, showing only the top of the
forehead and the hair, I should say you were Cyril."

The professor appeared, and they went into the more habitable part of
the house. Robert had not seen his sister since she was a little girl;
he had not seen Anna since they parted at Guild. It was altogether an
acceptable meeting; but he looked at Anna's face somewhat anxiously.

"Have you been working very much, Anna?" he took occasion to ask,
drawing her for a moment aside.

"I am always working very hard," she answered, with her sweet smile of
patient endurance. "There is a great deal to be done in schools, you
know; but I am well off at Miss Jupp's compared to what I was at the
other place. They are very kind to me."

"You have a look upon you as if you felt tired always. It is a curious
impression to draw though, perhaps, considering I have seen you but
for ten minutes."

"I do feel tired nearly always," acknowledged Anna. "The Miss Jupps
think London does not agree with me. I am going to Coastdown for a
change for the holidays; I shall get better there."

He thought she would require a longer change than a few holiday weeks.
Never in the old days had it struck him that Anna looked _fragile_;
but she certainly did now.

"And now, Robert Hunter, you'll stay with us, as these young ladies
are here?" said hospitable Mrs. Macpherson.

He hesitated before replying. Very much indeed would he have liked to
remain, but he had made an appointment with a gentleman.

"Put it off," said Mrs. Macpherson.

"There's no time for that. Certainly--if I am not at the office when
he comes, one of the partners would see him. But--"

"But what?" asked the professor. "Would not that be a solution of the
difficulty?"

"A way out of the mess," put in the professor's wife.

Mr. Hunter laughed. "I was going to say that I have never put away any
business for my own convenience since--since I took to it again."

The attraction, or whatever it might be, however, proved too strong
for business this afternoon, and Robert Hunter remained at the
professor's. When he and Miss Thornycroft parted at night, it seemed
that they had known each other for years.

It was very singular; a thing of rare occurrence. We have heard of
this sudden mutual liking, the nameless affinity that draws one soul
to another; but believe me it is not of very frequent experience. The
thought that crossed Robert Hunter's mind that evening more than once
was--"I wish that girl was my sister." Any idea of another sort of
attachment would be a very long while yet before it penetrated to him
as even a possibility.

In the evening, when they got home, at an early hour--Miss Jupp had
only given them until eight o'clock, for there was packing to do--Mary
Anne Thornycroft went into a fever of indignation to think that no
message had been left by or from any of her brothers.

"It is so fearfully careless of them! That is just like my brothers.
Do they expect we are to travel alone?"

"My dear, do not put yourself out," said Miss Jupp. "Two young ladies
can travel alone very well. You will get there quite safely."

"So far as that goes, ma'am, I could travel alone fearlessly to the
end of the world," spoke Mary Anne. "But that is not the question;
neither does it excuse their negligence. For all they know, I might
have spent all my money, and have none to take me down."

Miss Emma Jupp laughed. "They would suppose that we should supply
you."

"Yes, Miss Emma, no doubt. But they had no business to send me word
that one of them would be in London to-day to take charge of me home,
unless--"

The words were brought to a sudden standstill by the opening of the
door. One of the maids appeared at it to announce a guest.

"Mr. Isaac Thornycroft."

There entered the same noble-looking young man, noble in his towering
height and strength, that we knew two years ago at Coastdown; he came
in with a smile on his bright face--on its fair features, in its blue
eyes. Miss Emma Jupp's first thought was, what a likeness he bore to
his sister; her second that she had never in her whole life seen any
one half so good-looking. It happened that she had never seen him
before. Mary Anne began to reproach him for carelessness. He received
it all with the most ineffable good humour, the smile brightening on
his sunny face.

"I know it is too late, quite wrong of me, but I missed the train at
Jutpoint, and had to come by a later one. Which of these two young
ladies is Miss Chester?" he added, turning to the two girls who stood
together. "I have a--a trifle for her from Captain Copp."

"You shall guess," interposed Mary Anne. "One of them _is_ Anna
Chester. Now guess."

It was not difficult. Miss Hunter met his glance fearlessly in a merry
spirit; Anna blushed and let fall her eyes. Isaac Thornycroft smiled.

"This is Miss Chester."

"It is all through your stupid shyness, Anna," said Mary Anne in a
cross tone. Which of course only increased her confusion. Isaac
crossed the room, his eyes bent on the sweet blushing face, as he held
out the "trifle" forwarded by Captain Copp.

"Will you accept it, Miss Chester? Captain Copp charged me to take
particular care of it, and not to touch it myself."

It was a travelling wickered bottle, holding about a pint. Anna looked
at it with curiosity, and Emma Jupp took it out of her hand.

"What can it be?"

"Take out the cork and smell it," suggested Mr. Isaac Thornycroft.

Miss Emma did so; giving a strong sniff. "Dear me! I think it is rum."

"Rum-and-water," corrected Isaac. "Captain Copp begged me to assure
Miss Chester that it was only half-and-half, she being a young lady.
It is for her refreshment as she goes down to-morrow."

"If that's not exactly like Sam Copp!" exclaimed Miss Jupp with some
asperity, while the laugh against Anna went round. "He will never
acquire an idea beyond his old sea notions; never. _I_ remember what
he was before his leg came off."

"He came all the way to Jutpoint in the omnibus after me when I had
driven over, to make sure, I believe, that Mrs. Copp should not be
privy to the transaction. It was through his injunctions as to the
wicker bottle that I missed my train," concluded Isaac--his eyes, that
were bent on Anna Chester, dancing with mirth. At which hers fell
again.

If all of us estimated people alike, especially in regard to that
subtle matter of "liking" or "disliking" on first impression, what a
curious world it would be! Miss Emma Jupp considered Isaac Thornycroft
the best-looking, the most attractive man she had ever seen. Mary Anne
Thornycroft, on the contrary, was thinking the same of somebody else.

"I never saw anybody I liked half so much at first sight as Robert
Hunter," she softly said to herself, as she laid her head on her
pillow.




CHAPTER II.
Captain Copp.


Captain Copp was a true sailor, gifted with more good nature than
common sense. On the rare occasion of receiving a young lady visitor
under his roof, his hospitality and his heart alike ran riot. Anna
Chester, the pretty, friendless girl whom he had heard of but never
seen, was coming to him and his wife to be nursed into strength and
health, and the captain anticipated the arrival as something to be
made a fête of.

A feast too, by appearances. It was a bright summer morning, with a
fresh breeze blowing from the sea; and the captain was abroad betimes
with some flowing purple ribbons fastened round his glazed hat.
Greatly to the grievance of Mrs. Copp: who had ventured to say that
Anna was not a captured prize-ship, or a battle won, or even a
wedding, that she should be rejoiced over to the extent of streamers.
All of which Captain Copp was deaf to. He started by the ten o'clock
omnibus for Jutpoint, having undertaken first of all to send home
provisions for dinner. A pair of soles and two pounds of veal cutlet
had been meekly suggested by Mrs. Copp.

The morning wore on. Sarah, the middle-aged, hard-featured,
sensible-looking, thoroughly capable woman-servant, who was bold
enough to dispute with her master, and not in the least to care at
being likened to pirates and other disrespectful things, stood in the
kitchen making a gooseberry pudding, when the butcher-boy came in
without the ceremony of announcing himself; unless a knocking and
pushing of his tray against the back-door posts, through awkwardness,
could be called such.

"Some dishes, please," said he.

"Dishes!" retorted Sarah, who had one of the strongest tongues in
Coastdown. "Dishes for what?"

"For this here meat. The captain have just been in and bought it, and
master have sent it up."

He displayed some twelve or fifteen pounds of meat--beef, veal,
lamb. Sarah's green eyes--good, honest, pleasant eyes in the
main--glistened.

"Then your master's a fool. Didn't I tell him not to pay attention to
the captain when he took these freaks in his head?" she demanded.
"When he goes and buys up the whole shop--as he did one day last
winter because he was expecting a old mate of his down--your master's
not to notice him no more nor if he was a child. An uncommon soft
_you_ must be, to bring up all them joints! Did you think you was
supplying the Red Court? Just you march back with 'em."

There was an interruption. While the boy stood staring at the meat,
hardly knowing what to do, and rubbing his fingers amidst his shining
black hair, Mrs. Copp entered the kitchen, and became acquainted with
the state of affairs. She wore a pale muslin gown, as faded as her
gentle self, with pale green ribbons.

"Dear me," she meekly cried, "all that meat! We could not get through
the half of it while it was good? Do you think, James, your master
would have any objection to take it back?"

"Objection! He'll take it back, ma'am, whether he has any objection or
not," cried the positive Sarah. "Now then! who's this?"

Somebody seemed to be clattering up in clogs. A woman with the fish:
three pairs of large soles and a score or two of herrings, which the
captain had bought and paid for. Mrs. Copp, fearing what else might be
coming, looked inclined to cry. The exasperated Sarah, more practical,
took her hands out of the paste, wiped the flour off them on her check
apron, and went darting across the heath without bonnet to the
butcher's shop, the boy and his tray of rejected meat slowly following
her. There she commenced a wordy war with the butcher, accusing him of
being an idiot, with other disparaging epithets, and went marching
home in triumph carrying two pounds of veal cutlet.

"And that's too much for us," she cried to her mistress, "with all
that stock of fish and the pudding. What on earth is to be done with
the fish, I don't know. If I fry a pair for dinner, and pickle the
herrings, there'll be two pair left. _They_ won't pickle. One had need
to have poor folk coming here as they do at the Red Court. Master's
gone off with purple streamers flying from his hat; I think he'd more
need to put on bells."

Scarcely had she got her hands into the flour again, when another
person arrived. A girl with a goose. It was in its feathers, just
killed.

"If you please, ma'am," said she to Sarah, with a curtsey, "mother
says she'll stick the other as soon as ever she can catch him; but
he's runned away over the common. Mother sent me up with this for
'fraid you should be waiting to pluck him. The captain said they was
to come up sharp."

Sarah could almost have found in her heart to "stick" her master. She
was a faithful servant, and the waste of money vexed her. Mrs. Copp,
quite unable to battle with the petty ills of life, left the
strong-minded woman to fight against these, and ran away to her
parlour.

The respected cause of all this, meanwhile, had reached Jutpoint, he
and his streamers. There he had to wait a considerable time, but the
train came in at last, and brought the travellers.

They occupied a first-class compartment in the middle of the train.
There had been a little matter about the tickets at starting. Isaac
Thornycroft procured them, and when they were seated, Anna took out
her purse to repay him, and found she had not enough money in it. A
little more that she possessed was in her box. Accustomed to travel
second-class, even third, the cost of the ticket was more than she had
thought for. Eighteenpence short!

"If you will please to take this, I will repay you the rest as soon as
I can get to my box," she said, with painful embarrassment--an
embarrassment that Isaac could not fail to notice and to wonder at.
Reared as she had been, money wore to her an undue value; to want it
in a time of need seemed little short of a crime. She turned the
silver about in her hands, blushing painfully. Miss Thornycroft
discerned somewhat of the case.

"Never mind, Anna. I dare say you thought to travel second-class. You
can repay my brother later."

Isaac's quick brain took in the whole. This poor friendless girl, kept
at the Miss Jupps' almost out of charity, had less money in a year for
necessities than he would sometimes spend in an hour in frivolity.
Anna held out the silver still, with the rose-coloured flush deepening
on her delicate cheeks.

"What is it, Miss Chester?" he suddenly said. "Why do you offer me
your money?"

"You took my ticket, did you not?"

"Certainly," he answered, showing the three little pieces of card in
his waistcoat. "But I held the money for yours beforehand. Put up your
purse."

"Did you," she answered, in great relief, but embarrassed still. "Did
Mrs. Copp give it you?--or--Miss Jupp?--or--or the captain?" Isaac
laughed.

"You had better not inquire into secrets, Miss Chester. All I can tell
you is, I had the money for your ticket in my pocket. Where is that
important article--the wicker bottle? Captain Copp will expect it
returned to him--empty."

"It is empty now; Miss Jupp poured out the rum-and-water," she
answered, laughing. "I have it all safe."

She put up her purse as she spoke, inquiring no further as to the
donor in her spirit of implicit obedience, but concluded it must have
been Miss Jupp. And she never knew the truth until--until it was too
late to repay Isaac.

At the terminus, side by side with the captain and his streamers,
stood Justice Thornycroft. Anna remembered him well; the tall, fine,
genial-natured man whom she had seen three years before in the day's
visit to Mrs. Chester. All thought of her had long ago passed from his
memory, but he recognised the face--the pale, patient, gentle face,
which, even then, had struck Mr