CHAPTER XIV.

THE OLD BUREAU.

A NURSERY was immediately extemporised, where Phœbe and her little charge were tenderly cared for, and soon became a centre of attraction to the household. Her story, when able to tell it, was sad and simple.

"Bery hard to leab dear missy," she said, as by degrees she explained to her interested hearers, how she had received from her late mistress special directions to proceed if possible to India, and place the child under the protection of its grandmother, Mrs. Geoffrey Falconer, with strict injunctions that it was to be brought up in the Reformed faith.

"She once like you, young lady, jes' so fair and happy, but it hab to be done. And when de dear Lord say so, sure find de way to do it somehow. So when de spirit gone up to hebben, I keep all quiet, make all straight, put white lily on de breast, and step out ob dat house soft and still, while all dem priests fast asleep, and get quite out ob city, rest in day, trabel in night. Den not care, all right, for ole Phœbe know dat real dear missy not left behind, only poor body, noting but bit ob dust for dem to bodder wis, jes' fit dem and dere ways, all cold, no heart, no life.

"Afore she go, she put up pretty jewels for de chile, and gib money to pay. Money too soon gone, but tings all safe, dere dem is."

And she placed several packets in Mrs. Falconer's hands, requesting her to retain them until they should be required again.

"Den at last, get on board Englis' ship, to be safe away from de priests, can't neber breave right whar dem is, no truth in dem; and anybody who know whar de chile be, must gib her up to dem: deys de Church, ob course. Good Lord 'liber us from dere cruel ways! Him, de great good Head ob de Church neber hab crooked body like dem to be His Church. Now Phœbe know about England and missionary, and dat precious martyrs die to hold fast de truth as it is in Jesus, so me tink jes' get dere first, find de old Moat House, and Massa Guy's moder, and get put in East Indiaman to get home.

"Long as de money last, poor old Phœbe bery comfortable and brave, and full of false stuff she call faith, and tink de Lord bery good and pleasant; but ah! Money too soon go, she come to last bit ob silver, and den! She frighten and fret like any poor unbelieving sinner; so Phœbe only sunshine Christian arter all! Ah, dear lady, dem dat trust in de Lord must trust Him in cloud and darkness too, else neber know half how good and true He be. But He pass ober bad ole 'ooman's doubt and fear, and when she cry to Him, He lay her down jes' whar somebody find her, and put her to sleep, and wake up 'mong eberyting she want!"

"And in the very place where you are most wanted," said Evelyn.

"Sure. Dat de Lord's way, and His way allays de best way. You 'member dat, missy, neber you do noting 'thout askin' de Lord. Den you strong, cause He say:

"'Fear not, for I am with thee; I will teach thee, I will uphold thee.'

"When de dear Lord teach, His chillen must larn; when Him uphold, dey shall stand. Poor tings, dey wriggles about, and doesn't allays like it, but Him knows dem only worms, and wants pickin' up, and puttin' out ob way ob mischief. So He say, 'Fear not, thou worm.'

"Ah, dear missy, only tink de mighty Son ob God come to save worms from getting trod under foot when debble and hosts come sweepin' by! Dats de right Saviour for poor ole Phœbe—aye, and young pretty missy too. B'lieve dat?" she asked, anxiously, trying to look through the fair young face into the heart behind it.

"Yes, Phœbe," said Evelyn, timidly, "I do believe it; but—"

"But what, dear chile?"

"I've never been tried, Phœbe. There are no troubles at The Moat House; everybody here is kind and good, and I'm afraid of being as you said just now, only a sunshine Christian."

"Is dat it? Bless de Lord. Why, don't missy know dat de Lord's sweet flowers must hab de sunshine to grow in, as well as the clouds? And while He gib sunshine, tank Him, and lub Him dearly, and grow, and spread out nice colours and fragrance. Neber be lookin' for troubles to find out 'bout self, leave dem all to de Lord; and, chile, dey 'll come sometime, 'cause Satan hate happiness eberywhar, and he'll find de way to de Moat House, and 'sturb de peace somehow; but never fear, keep close to the Lord Jesus, and so keep looking at Him, and 'miring Him, dat not care bery much 'bout oder tings; maybe deys bery holler, arter all, but de Lord, Him sure and true and full ob blessing."

"You have known Him well, and loved Him long, Phœbe, haven't you?" asked Evelyn.

"Pretty long spell now, missy, but de Lord Him know and lub poor Phœbe first. He gib her His own word. Good missionary tell, and Phœbe larn; den no more idols, no more priests. Dey talk to Phœbe foolish tings, but she know better and say, 'You go 'long, and neber tink to lead dem dat knows de blessed Gospel; Phœbe lead you now to de foot ob de cross, and you larn with her de salvation ob de true God."

"And did any of them listen to you, Phœbe?"

"Ah, Phœbe not know; she got de good seed, and she drop it in. De Lord gib de hearing ear, only His servants take care to speak, and He do say:

"'My word shall not return to me void.'

"Maybe some poor broder 'mong dem meet Phœbe in glory and tank her for true word. But, missy, dem priests in Italy won't neber listen to de true word, dey blind leaders ob de blind. Ah, de poor sheep got no good shepherds dere! Dey say, 'Bery fine 'ligion for priests, fine shows, fine robes, fine chants, fine little box to hold dere God, but who b'lieves anyting? Ah, no God, no noting; we lib and die, and dere's de end.' Poor tings! Dem want missionary much as Hindoos. You don't know, missy, cause ob de blessed Gospel in your country. No priests, no nuns, no popes here, blindin' poor souls from looking to de Lamb ob God."

"Phœbe, I want to know how it is that you can repeat texts from our English Bible so correctly?"

"Well, dear chile, it jes' dis ways. Phœbe bit ob a gal once when poor slave, and Missy Falconer like her, and made fader buy her; so when missy go away from West Indies to Calcutta, she take Phœbe dere too, and make her free. Den Phœbe hear good missionary teach de Gospel, and de blessed Lord make it go right in her heart, and Phœbe free indeed. Den she want see good words with her own eyes and tell dem to odor sinners: plenty sinners dere too. So poor Phœbe try to read Bible in English, and learn plenty chapters, and say dem to dear missionary lady. Dis ways make say texts all right, in good words, but when Phœbe talk random, she only like poor chile, to de end ob her days. Ah! Noting like speakin' de Lord's own words, missy, allays say right den."

"I wish I could always say right, Phœbe, but I have such a jumble of things in my foolish head, that the right ones are seldom found in time."

"Ah! Dat not right, missy; what she lub best sure come uppermost. Lub de dear Lord Jesus, and eber be tinking what please Him; dat's de secret ob de Lord, and bery strong blessed secret too. Missy lub fader and moder, don't she?"

"I should think so, indeed!" said Evelyn, quickly.

"Sure, neber doubt it; and missy do anyting dey tell; neber stop to say, is she sure she lubs dem 'nough to wish please dem. Oh, no, cause she dere own chile, born to lub dem. Same ting de chile ob God, born again to lub Him; it's in de new heart, and can't help it so long as feel like chile. It's dem dat don't b'lieve Him real kind fader dat forgets, and wants windin' up like clock. God don't want no chillen ob dat sort, but livin', lovin' chillen, dat run in His ways free and happy, and willin'. Can't force no lub, missy. God make His chile born with it in new heavenly life."

In her frequent visits to the nursery, and loving reverence for the "black but comely" Christian there, Evelyn learned much and also taught something; and became scarcely less an object of interest to Phœbe than the orphan infant on her knee. The nurse was easily prevailed on to remain at The Moat House until circumstances should render her important evidence available in the matter of the missing document, and while Mrs. Falconer undertook correspondence with the maternal grandparent of the babe.

* * * * * * *

Among the warm friends taken into the family confidence concerning the old bureau was Mr. Spadeley, whose knowledge of circumstances amongst the living and dead of the Falcon Range was indisputable. But it cost him many scratches of the head, many vigorous digs into the old churchyard, many untimely whisperings beneath the elms with the worthy landlord of "The Falconer's Arms," before he could make anything of it. Then a glimmer of light seemed to arise in his mind, and before he had exactly fixed whether its source was north, south, east or west, Miss Evelyn flitted before him, to enjoy the first effect of its beam.

"Well, Mr. Spadeley, you really look mysterious. Have you made any discovery?" she asked, seating herself on the low wall that divided the churchyard from her father's lands.

"Well, miss, I've got a bit of idea, as it were, but I doubt if it brings us any nearer after all."

"Surely it will," cried Evelyn, eagerly; "you will tell it me, won't you, Mr. Spadeley? Or shall I run for my father?"

"Bless you, miss, I'd rather tell you than fifty fathers, and no disrespect to his honour but what will your pretty wit do with it, I wonder?"

"Only try," she replied, laughingly, "it will be the greatest compliment you can pay it."

"Well, then, I've been reminding and recalling things, as it were, for some years back, and I do mind when them rooms was opened, a lot of lumbering things all lying about in the way, and the master bidding the work-people do what they liked with them, and some I know was broke up for fire-wood."

"But no one would break up a piece of furniture that could be put to any use," said Evelyn. "Don't you think it more likely that someone took it home, and that after all it may be standing in some cottage not far away?"

"Well, no, Miss Evelyn, I don't; 'cause why, what sort of folks would they be that would keep anything they found in it that didn't belong to them? No, no, I don't believe there's any of that sort near the old Moat House."

"But, Mr. Spadeley, you know there is a secret drawer: it may never have been discovered."

"There now!" said the sexton, brightening up. "I thought you'd put something to it, and it do make a difference surely; for I were loath to think of false vassals hiding under the wing of the Falconers; leastways, if they've got a wing, which in course they haven't now-a-days; but it don't matter so much, seeing Squire Hazelwood's a good master to serve, and shame to them that don't be thankful. Only you see, Miss Evelyn, it might have been otherways."

"Well, then, Mr. Spadeley, for all our sakes, it is right to have a fresh search, and my father has decided to advertise, with a handsome reward to anyone who will give information."

"Well, Miss Evelyn," said Spadeley, meditatively, "I can't say as I shall feel much beholden to anybody as gives information for pay, while there's opportunity to give it without, and I don't believe we'll get any nearer to the old bit of furniture so. But you and Miss Maude just try again, out of our parish a bit, and if it be above ground, surely you'll come at it for love."

Smiling at the old man's tenacious interest in the honour of the inhabitants of the Falcon Range, and his chivalrous tribute to her own and Maude Falconer's influence, the young lady went home to discuss the melancholy fears of the bureau having been, broken up for fire-wood, and the document in question perhaps having served to feed the flame.

The Squire gave his humble neighbours credit for a little more sense than this reckless destruction would have indicated, and had some confidence in the effect of his offer, largely placarded in very large letters and figures, of "Twenty pounds reward" for the recovery of an old bureau, supposed to have been given among other lumber to any person who might think it worth carrying away, when the workmen were engaged upon repairs of the old Moat House.

In the direction of N— Park, the young ladies seldom rode, as great changes had occurred there; but now, furnished with a clue by Jane Spadeley, the efficient mistress of their school at Pine-wood End, they determined to visit the farms and cottages around a long forbidden scene of much regret to the old-fashioned Protestantism of the true-hearted Squire.

Bound for some cottages a little way beyond, Maude and Evelyn instinctively reined up their ponies at the open gates of N— Park, just within which appeared a scene well calculated to arrest attention.

On a gentle elevation, selected for picturesque effect, stood a beautiful little chapel, built in miniature imitation of an admired cathedral church. Building materials still lay scattered about, but it was evidently open for use, for two old women, one old man, and three or four children were coming slowly down the steps, and a robed priest appeared behind them, looking out and about from the doors.

Quickly observing the young horse-women at the Park gates, he retired for a moment, and reappeared in ordinary dress, to pay his respects and to request the pleasure of showing them the new church.

"We have no congratulations to offer on its completion," said Maude, gravely, "but we are duly surprised at the speed with which it has been erected."

"And the wonderful fact of a congregation already!" added Evelyn, mischievously, as the three aged villagers passed solemnly out.

"There was no reason for delay, when the death of Sir Ryland left his son at liberty to carry out his pious design," replied the priest; "and as for the congregation, the people are not yet prepared for the privileges which the Church offers in her observance of holy-days."

"Mr. Freakes, why don't you put things in the right light?" said Evelyn. "You should have said, 'as his advisers thought proper.' Everybody knows that the poor young gentleman is weak, and had no more thought of building a Roman Catholic Church than of building Noah's ark, until you put it into his head."

"Then you should estimate the advantage of wise advisers, and rejoice that the young gentleman is susceptible to such influence," replied the priest. "But can I not prevail on you even to ride round the church? The view will well repay your trouble, and you can prepare Mr. Guy for the new object in his landscape, when he returns to paint it."

"Not omitting the picturesque effect of the congregation slowly descending its marble steps, and the great encouragement to be derived from such an appreciative audience! We have an errand near, or we had not known these facts so soon."

"Possibly you will feel a little more respect for the facts, if I inform you that I am not ignorant of your errand, Miss Hazelwood; that perhaps I can be of service to you, and may find a clue to the bureau where you cannot."

And Mr. Freakes seemed to enjoy the momentary surprise he had caused.

But Maude quickly perceived his meaning, and merely replying that they sought information only by honourable means such as British subjects should employ, they bowed and rode on

"Oh, Evelyn!" she cried. "Ought not this sight to stir us up to work as we have never worked yet?"

"We'll get my father to let us have a box of Bibles to distribute at once," said Evelyn; "but after all, Maude, two deaf old women, and an old man in his dotage are flattering proofs of the success of the experiment. Even Phœbe would smile at such an exhibition."

After visiting several cottages unsuccessfully, they observed one of the same deaf old women at a cottage door, and, once more dismounting, surprised her by following as she retreated within.

"We saw you at the chapel just now," said Evelyn.

"Anan!" said the old woman, putting her hand to her ear. "I be very deaf, ladies, can't hear nothin'."

"Do you know what saint's day it is?" said Evelyn, more loudly.

"Oh, aye. A very nice gentleman indeed, miss, a pleasant gentleman."

"If you can't hear, can you read?" shouted Evelyn.

"Ah, yes, it began with a cold like, and you see I'm not so young as I was, miss; I'm stone deaf."

"What shall we do, Maude? We shall raise the village at this rate."

Maude then spread out one of the great placards, and held it before the old woman's face, but with no better result; she shook her head, and looked distressed.

"Stay, Maude, let me try again. It strikes me that she might hear some words if she chose." And putting her lips close to the old woman's ear, she deliberately uttered, "Twenty pounds."

"Eh! What? What?" cried the dame with a start.

"Twenty pounds," repeated Maude, in the other ear.

"Do ye say twenty pounds, young miss?"

"Yes, twenty pounds to anyone who can give information about a bureau that was carried away as old lumber from the Moat House some years ago. A piece of furniture something like that, I should think?" added Maude, suddenly pointing with her riding whip to a dark-looking shattered bureau or secretaire, standing in a recess by the side of the old woman's bedstead.

"Eh, what? Like that?" she cried in alarm. "It's my own, my very own. What will Hodge say? Do they want my furniture, every bit my own?"

"No," said Maude, "but to give twenty pounds to anyone who can tell what became of ours."

"I'm not a thief, I'm not," whimpered she, rocking herself in her chair, and recovering from stone deafness with wonderful rapidity.

"Of course not. We did not say you are a thief; we only tell you about the twenty pounds for anyone who can find our old bureau, and we want you to tell your neighbours."

"I will, indeed, miss, I will. Twenty pounds, did you say, if I tell—if I hear of it? Twenty golden guineas should I get?" Again she was assured of the fact, and the young visitors had scarcely departed when the priest entered the cottage. The old woman rose with a curtsey, the door was closed, and he and his aged daughter had a long interview.

That evening a sealed packet was delivered at The Moat House, addressed to Mrs. Falconer, with Father Austin's congratulations on the recovery of a document so important to her interests, and expressions of high satisfaction that in the exercise of his holy functions, he had been permitted to afford her this assistance. Also that, with respect to the reward of twenty pounds, he felt it his duty to accept it, on behalf of the poor and sick members of his flock.

"We'll see about that," said the Squire, contemptuously; "no reward was offered for wringing secrets out of even guilty hearts, and whoever gave up the paper shall have the reward."

"But you forget that a priest may not reveal secrets told in confession," suggested Mrs. Hazelwood; "and he says, 'In the exercise of his holy functions.'"

"Tusk! Little simpleton," said the Squire, "this man forgets where he is. Our people are not the fools he takes them for, and I shall find a way to rival his confessional, or I'm not Roger Hazelwood. But now for a dose of law and justice for Mr. Penacre and his worthy client, I suspect."

Mrs. Falconer's head bent in thankfulness over the recovered deed, which detailed in legal terms the fact briefly alluded to in the memoranda confided to Phœbe's care, and there was no doubt of the fraud which had been perpetrated by the younger Mr. Falconer, nor of the power on the part of the widow and children of the late Captain Guy Falconer to demand restitution. That the claim would not be in vain was owing to the promptitude of Mr. Hazelwood, in his timely prohibition of any payments to the late owner of certain estates in England, until it should be proved and answered.

"Father," said Evelyn, gravely, "Maude and I have an idea of the conscience that has been probed in this matter, and that in reality our words screamed into two deaf ears have had more effect than the priest's 'functions.' We made a great impression with 'twenty pounds,' and another visit which we planned to make would have secured a victory. Mr. Freakes has only anticipated us."

"And," added Maude, "we think there may have been something else discovered in the bureau, because a mere old parchment like this would not sufficiently account for the old woman's evident alarm, nor for concealment of her possession of it."

"Very well thought of, my wise little wenches," cried the Squire. "We will look into it, and do to others the justice we ask for ourselves. And you must teach your old woman that if she should lose twenty pounds, it will be because of her roundabout way of doing things, instead of going straight at the truth like a Christian."

Just as the great doors of The Moat House were being secured for the night, a solitary figure shyly begged admittance to a few minutes' speech with the master.

"Hodge! Why Hodge, my man! What brings you here this time of night?" exclaimed the Squire, at once recognising the man as a thrasher who was often employed on farms in the neighbourhood. "Come in and tell me your trouble; nothing very bad, I hope, though it is a late hour for honest folk to be abroad by choice."

Hodge was bidden into the hall, and stood before the Squire, the light from the last blazing log on the ample hearth revealing his pale and anxious face.

"Your honour, sir," began Hodge, stroking his hair straight down his forehead, and kicking out behind with his right foot, "you see, I be come about that 'ere twenty pound. The old bit of furniture as was turned out of Moat got away to us, and mother she set it up in our kitchen. And, master, we never knowed of no paper in it till a week agone, and then when I hears about the advertising, we hunts it over, thinkin' it were wanted for sake of summat in it, and sure enough we finds the paper."

"And did you not think the right thing to do was to bring it here at once?" asked the Squire, as Hodge came to a pause.

"Yes, sure, master, that I did. But mother's got took up with the priest and his new religion, along of him getting her to heaven comfortable, and she goes and confesses to him summat as lay on her conscience, and he gets hold of the paper somehow, and made a deal about it. So when I comes home, I says,—

"'I'm goin' to give up that old lumber, and get twenty pounds for it, and you give me that bit of parchment to go with it.'

"And to that, she screeches out that his reverence, as she calls him, took it away, and it seems he be going to get the twenty pounds into the bargain, for the good of the Church, he says; and if we don't let him, he'll bring summat against her in t'other world, so as she'll get no blessin' nor absolution. But, master, you see, I'm not of that persuasion, not I, nor don't mean to be, and I'm a poor man with a large family, and mother to keep, so I says,—

"'I'll go and make confession too, and to a right honest gentleman what 'll do right.'

"So I come, sir, and if I'd 'a had my will, I'd 'a come at first start, soon as I knowed you'd a regard for th' old lumber. It ain't worth much, and can go into th' bargain, sir if you've a mind."

"We have no particular regard for the old lumber, Hodge, but we ought to have been asked to take the overhauling of it, after you knew it was being inquired for," said Mr. Hazelwood.

"Yes, sir, it was all along of mother going to that 'ere chapel, I do assure ye," urged Hodge, gloomily.

"Will you answer me one question, friend?" said the Squire, after a few moments' consideration. "Fear nothing, I shall not impose any penance, nor refuse absolution. But tell me truly: Did you or your mother find anything else in this old bureau with its secret hiding-place?"

Hodge shuffled, stood first on one leg then on the other, looked earnestly at the four shadowed corners of the hall, consulted the antlers of a once famous stag over the great mantelpiece, coughed a little, stroked his head, twisted his hat into indescribable shapes, and finally, resolved to bring himself through his trouble and make an end of it, he faced the Squire more boldly.

"Master, I been honest, boy and man, all my life, and I wouldn't wrong nobody; but mother be very old, and she did say how them few guineas would bury her when she's dead, and no thanks to the parish; and I didn't say no, 'cause I thowt p'raps it were providence like to find 'em there, and no harm done to nobody. Now as I'm a living man that's all I knows about it. Mother she put the gold away somewheres till the burying, and I ain't touched a penny of it."

"Very good. Then, Hodge, you must ask your mother to give up those guineas, for though I bought The Moat House as it stood, I did not bargain for secret hoards in old bureaux, and anything of that kind still belongs to Mr. Falconer, if we would do our duty to God and him. You had a right to the piece of furniture, thrown out to anyone who chose to pick it up, and you are entitled to the reward offered for the discovery of the paper found in it."

"Thank ye, sir, thank ye; I knowed you'd set it all right."

"But, Hodge, let me advise you to comfort your mother's heart by setting aside a portion for her use, and don't let any man calling himself a priest get into your house or presume to manage her or it."

"Wish I could help it, master, but ye see our young gentleman shows most favour to them as goes to his new chapel, and minds his priest, and I'm only a poor man, and can't afford to 'front him. And the children what used to go to school at Pine-wood End, why they be getting imperent and bad and lazy, and scoffs at commandments, and says priest knows better nor Bible, and bids 'em not read it no more. So then, sir, you won't give him the twenty pound?"

"Certainly not. I shall give it to you, and inform Mr. Freakes to that effect."

"And, sir, if I gets into trouble about it, would you stand a poor fellow's friend? We could live a while on the twenty pound, but I couldn't do 'thout work for any long spell, ye see."

"You may depend on me to see you through this business, Hodge, but I scarcely think it would suit Mr. Freakes' plans to interfere with you and your livelihood; the circumstances will soon be public, and will not tell to his advantage if he turns you off."

"But, sir, he makes out that everything is for the good of the Church, and to do his bidding is as good as doing God Almighty's. Lord forgive 'em! I know it ain't gospel though."

"Hodge, take my advice: read the Bible for yourself, and see what the Lord God says. Take no man's report, but, like a straightforward fellow, judge for yourself. Popery fears everything, Protestantism nothing, from God's Holy Word. Use your common sense and English birthright, and in the matter of faith and duty, listen first to Him who has told us what to believe, and guides us what to do—God in Christ, reconciling us to Himself. Between your soul and God there is nothing but sin; let that be put away by faith in the blood of His dear Son, and you and God are one, as free to speak and love and trust, as your child to you. Only take this in, my friend, by the power of God's Holy Spirit, and the priest will be much more afraid of you and your influence than you of him and his."

"I do wish, sir, if it baint taking too much of a liberty, somebody might call round, and tell all this to mother; she be greatly feared of this man," said Hodge, earnestly.

"We will see to that. I will call to-morrow, please God, and tell her that she and you are to draw on me for twenty pounds whenever you please, but Mr. Falconer's guineas must go back to him."

"All right, sir; they be in a stocking-foot tucked in among feathers of mother's own bed, against the burying, she says; but I reckon yourn 'll be a deal comfortabler to sleep on. Good-night, sir, and many humble thanks to your honour."

This turn of affairs brought a speedy visit from the priest to the Dowager Mrs. Hodge, but her deafness that day was impenetrable. In vain, he shouted in her ears,—

"You must make your son give up that money: it is sacrilege to keep it."

"Take sacrament? Oh, yes, I'll tell him," said she, demurely.

"Sacrilege, I say: it belongs to the Church. He shall be dismissed Sir Gilbert's service."

"Come with Sir Gilbert's servants? Yes, sir; thank ye, sir; be sure to."

"Stupid old crone! What am I to do with her? I don't know how to deal with such boors as these."

And reiterating his commands in a voice that brought several urchins peeping in at the window, the discomfited gentleman departed in displeasure.

"There, good riddance to ye!" muttered Mistress Hodge, shutting her door. "It's a deal too botherin', this new religion, and I don't know as I'll come to mass no more: 'taint so smooth and easy if one 'fronts 'em, I can see. Twenty pounds ain't going his way, for good of Church indeed! I shan't quarrel wi' Hodge about it, and no law won't take it from us, nor no Church neither. So if I has to go through purgatory, why let it be, and I don't see as my old bones won't stand it as well as rheumatics, so that's no odds."

While Mr. Freakes was pursuing his impracticable converts, Maude and Evelyn became cottage readers, and Bibles found way into every dwelling within reach. The Catholic experiment did not prosper in that neighbourhood, and the only funds available for the maintenance of the chapel came out of the purse of the young baronet, while he was testing in some happy novitiate abroad his vocation for monastic life, and leaving his ecclesiastical friends to prey upon the resources, and conduct the affairs of his estate at home.

With the recovery of the lost document, ended, as he had promised, Mr. Penacre's interest in the affairs of his absent client. The claim was substantiated by competent authority, and Mrs. Falconer and her children were no longer dependent upon personal exertion, or the sympathy of friends.

Phœbe, having conceived a great terror of Mr. Freakes, earnestly entreated that her departure for India with her orphan charge might be hastened, and not even the prospect of welcoming "Massa Guy" could overcome her dread of some scheme to rob her of her dear mistress's child, or keep her calm and patient after she became aware of the near neighbourhood of a priest of Rome.

She confided to Evelyn the Bible which Guy had given to the Countess, and charged her with many a quaint message of love and praise. But her ideas of England's greatness had been modified by the fact that an idolatrous temple could be erected where martyrs had died to purchase a glorious Reformation. And when instructed on the matter of liberty of conscience and tolerant rule, her simple, God-honouring faith was sorely perplexed to comprehend how national dignity could be advanced, and national character profited, by upholding Truth on the one hand, and pandering to Falsehood on the other.

"Sure," said she, sorrowfully, "dey isn't goin' to let de bad Spirit come back after the grand ole place swept clean, and de rubbish cast out; sure they knows him got seven fine friends to help him, lookin' out for nice home to lib in, and once dem gets in, dey 'll let it be tore to ruins afore dey 'll go out again! Oh, dear Lord, don't let 'em blind dis blessed ole' England nebber no more! Stop de wolf afore him get into Sheepfold! Oh, don't nebber let de grip ob Confession lay hold on dese Englis' homes. Better be black slave in de market, dan kneel white slave at de priest's foot! Amen."

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