CHAPTER VII.

"I HAD such a delightful travelling companion this afternoon," said Lady Sudeleigh to the table collectively, after Gregory had said grace and I had begun to ladle out the soup. "He got out at Lynnchester, and I understand he is a neighbour of yours, a Mr. Redworth."

"Our nearest neighbour," exclaimed Gregory. "Just across the way, in fact, at Coldhope."

"Well, I am deeply indebted to him, I can assure you; and perhaps I shall have the opportunity of thanking him again while I am here. Mathilde made some stupid mistake about the luggage at the junction, and we thought it had gone on in the wrong train. She is absolutely no use in travelling; as much charge, I tell her, as a child would be; and these north-country porters don't understand her broken English. I do not know what would have become of us if Mr. Redworth had not come to the rescue, really like a knight-errant succouring the distressed. After that he went on in my carriage to Lynnchester, and told me all sorts of odd things; I was greatly entertained."

"He is a very out-of-the-way person, and can make himself uncommonly interesting when he chooses. There No. 435.-VOL. LXXIII.

could be no doubt he would choose with you; and I am glad he was at hand to be of use."

"He did choose; but I took it for nature and not compliment. My only misgiving was whether he could be perfectly sane. It is, to say the least, unusual for a man in this nineteenth century of ours,- -a man who bears the stamp of good society-to declare himself an alchemist! And he would not allow he was in jest; he insisted it was a serious science, and only the Arabian term for something of real practical import to all of us.'

"I believe he is a clever experimental chemist, and, according to his own account, he has discovered some remarkable secrets in the ancient mystical literature, the writings of Paracelsus, and others even earlier. He told me on one occasion here that he was on the eve of giving them to the world."

"The philosopher's stone, I suppose, and the fountain of eternal youth. I should not mind having a dip in that fountain if he can produce it. The world has been a pleasant one to me in past years, and I am in no hurry to leave it, even now. Seriously, however, it does seem odd for a man like Mr. Redworth to give himself up to such researches. The craze must come in somewhere. Yes, he

M

talked about Paracelsus, and the impossibility of fathoming the true significance of those ancient writings without the fundamental key; otherwise they appeared the wildest nonsense, all about green dragons and salt of vipers and such like. As I told him, I could well believe it."

"For my own part," said Gregory, "I think it not impossible that the manuscripts were so phrased as to be intelligible only to a certain sect. There was a great idea in those days of keeping the laity in ignorance; and though our modern practice has got past all that, there was an element of wisdom in it, to my thinking. Nothing is so dangerous as a little knowledge in the power of the ignorant."

"Ah, when a clergyman begins to talk about the laity as a class by themselves, we can say nothing, we women. Can we, Miss Varney? But I thought my charming friend a little peculiar on other points. What do you think he told me he had got with him, in a particular long wooden box of which he was very careful? ”

"I have not the least idea."

"I hope I shall not spoil any one's dinner if I tell you; it was a human arm. It seems he attaches a great value to such trifles on account of experiments he is pursuing; and having heard from the hospital authorities in York that an amputation was to take place, he attended to possess himself of the,-memento mori is not a right expression, I suppose, as they did not kill the man.

I said I understood from Mr. Redworth he was studying the Egyptian methods of embalming.

"It was not the Egyptian way he was explaining to me,-at least not what we have always understood by it, we ignorant folk who are not alchemists. The Egyptians used to rub you with spices, did they not, and wind you in waxed cloths, and paint a picture

of you on the mummy-case? I saw some queer specimens when I was at Cairo with Sir Richard. But Mr. Redworth's way, the alchemist's way, is something very superior. It is the injection of a fluid into the veins which arrests the change of death; and if he is able to perfect the invention the body can be rendered absolutely indestructible except by fire. Curious idea, is it not?"

"I have heard Redworth talk about it," returned Gregory; "but he said he had not mastered the secret of complete diffusion. It needed the pulse of a living heart to circulate the fluid equally throughout the system. All he has accomplished yet has been temporary and partial."

"Yes; he was abusing the Government because they would not give him a criminal! Horrid idea, is it not? And we are making Miss Varney and your niece look quite pale over it. I shall ask him when I see him how his arm is getting on. He told me he attended the operation, and injected this stuff the instant it was severed. But enough of Mr. Redworth; tell me something about your church. Have you obtained the grant of funds you hoped for?"

Lady Sudeleigh had talked on about our neighbour as if really interested, but I believe it was in part to cover the sad contrast between our present gathering round that table and what had been hoped for. She was one of those people who think the best way to treat a sorrow is to ignore it, and her ideal of consolation was oblivion. I have no doubt Barbara's disappearance was often a topic of conversation between her and Eleanor, but I am quite sure it was always on Eleanor's introduction. She was less reticent with me, but I never heard her approach the subject with Gregory, except on one occasion which I shall note hereafter. That first evening

when he said something about " our lost child" I saw her put out her thin hand sparkling with rings, and lay it on his with a momentary pressure while she turned away her face; so though silent, she could be sympathetic. I liked her; I confess that she fascinated me.

There was another whom she attracted, but the spell was of other weaving than her own. Janie never put herself forward into notice, but was ready with numberless little mute attentions, quick to anticipate every wish of Dick's mother. The great lady did not heed her much; she had been accustomed to take her at Eleanor's valuation as "only Janie Moorhouse," and I am sure she was quite unsuspicious of any warmer feeling towards her son. Dick came the day following her arrival,-or Richard, as his mother called him, for she never descended to diminutives; and I did not wonder the Sudeleighs were anxious about him. He looked haggard and gloomy; irritable as much as the instinct of good manners suffered to be apparent; restless under his grief, and yet reluctant to be out of touch with the associations

that revived it. I was present when

he knelt beside Eleanor's sofa for her farewell words.

you

"I will not go unless send me," he said. "If there is anything we have left undone, anything I can still do, tell me and I will stay."

But the other mother was looking on, and Eleanor said "Go" amidst her tears. He remained a night at the Rectory, and I was witness to one other little scene at which Lady Sudeleigh did not assist. I was sitting in the dusk over the fire, and he and Janie were withdrawn into the window recess, the two young heads near together in the dim light; he had a paper he was unfolding to show her. "Here it is; this is the list of the

ports at which we shall touch, and the dates for letters; you will not let me look in vain for them, I know. Janie, you have been as good as an angel to me in my trouble; it will be heavier on me than ever when I cannot bring it for you to share. Promise to write to me, to write by every mail, and tell me any least thing. The faintest hope or trace will bring me back."

"I will write,-I will indeed." Her reply was so faint it hardly reached my ear, but he caught her hand and wrung it. I thought for a moment he intended a warmer caress. "God bless you," he said huskily, "my dear little sister."

I wondered as I listened whether it would always be a sister's love he would ask from her; and then, with the old haunting suggestion which my better reason refused, but which I could not wholly quell,-whether if another affection were demanded she would be guiltless in according it,whether the hand that lay in his were indeed free from stain!

He left early the next day; and as it happened Lady Sudeleigh and I were alone over our tea that afternoon, and the hour, or the function, or the fact that she had that morning parted with her youngest and favourite child for an indefinite absence, may have predisposed her to confidence. Eleanor was sleeping off her agitation, and the effect of a suffering night; Gregory had been called to his sick parishioner, and had sent Janie abroad on another errand.

"I am more relieved than I can say that Richard is gone! You won't misunderstand me, Miss Varney, for I feel I can speak freely to you; but it is a great weight off my mind."

I said something sympathetic about his altered looks, and the benefit of change.

"Yes, the change will be every