THE
PROPHET
'S
MANTLE
BY
FABIAN
BLAND
NEW
YORK
NATIONAL
BOOK
COMPANY
3
,
4
,
5
AND
6
MISSION
PLACE
Copyright
,
1889
,
BY
Belford
,
Clarke
+
Co.
CONTENTS
.
THE
PROPHET
'S
MANTLE
.
TO
be
the
son
of
a
noble
of
high
position
,
to
be
the
heir
to
vast
estates
in
a
western
province
,
and
to
a
palace
in
the
capital
,
to
have
large
sums
safely
invested
in
foreign
banks
,
to
be
surrounded
by
every
luxury
that
to
most
men
makes
life
worth
living
,
to
be
carefully
inoculated
with
all
the
most
cherished
beliefs
of
the
territorial
aristocracy
,
and
as
carefully
guarded
from
all
liberal
influences
;
to
be
all
this
does
not
generally
lead
a
man
to
be
a
social
reformer
as
well
.
Such
causes
,
as
a
rule
,
do
not
produce
a
very
revolutionary
effect
.
But
in
Russia
,
tyranny
,
officialism
,
and
the
supreme
sway
of
ignorance
and
brutality
,
seem
to
have
reversed
all
ordinary
rules
,
and
upset
all
ordinary
calculations
.
There
the
'
gentlemen
of
the
pavement
'
are
nobles
,
with
a
longer
lineage
than
the
Romanoffs
,
and
progressive
views
find
some
of
their
most
doughty
champions
in
the
ranks
of
the
old
nobility
.
So
Count
Michael
Litvinoff
was
not
such
a
startling
phenomenon
,
nor
such
a
glaring
anomaly
,
as
he
would
have
been
in
any
other
country
.
His
parents
died
when
he
was
about
eighteen
,
and
after
their
death
he
spent
most
of
his
time
in
close
study
of
physics
,
philosophy
,
and
of
the
'
dismal
science
,
'
as
expounded
by
its
most
advanced
apostles
.
He
wrote
,
too
,
extensively
,
though
most
of
his
works
were
published
in
countries
where
the
censorship
was
not
quite
so
strict
as
in
his
own
.
When
he
was
about
twenty-five
,
and
was
deep
in
the
heart
of
his
great
work
,
'
The
Social
Enigma
,
'
he
woke
up
one
morning
with
a
conviction
that
all
his
last
chapters
were
utter
nonsense
,
and
,
what
was
worse
,
he
could
n't
for
the
life
of
him
make
out
what
they
meant
even
when
he
read
them
over
.
Bewildered
and
anxious
,
he
hastened
to
refer
the
matter
to
a
personal
friend
and
political
ally
,
whose
answer
was
brief
and
to
the
point
.
'
Nonsense
?
Why
,
the
book
's
as
clear
as
daylight
,
and
as
convincing
as
Euclid
.
You
've
been
working
too
hard
—
overdoing
it
altogether
.
Go
to
the
South
of
France
for
a
month
,
and
lose
a
few
roubles
at
Monte
Carlo
.
It
will
do
you
good
.
'
Michael
Litvinoff
took
the
first
part
of
this
advice
;
and
though
he
did
not
take
the
second
part
,
he
did
sometimes
spend
an
hour
in
watching
others
lose
their
money
.
One
night
he
noticed
a
young
man
on
whom
fortune
appeared
to
be
frowning
with
more
than
her
usual
persistence
and
bitterness
.
Again
and
again
he
staked
,
and
again
and
again
he
lost
.
At
last
he
collected
the
few
coins
that
remained
of
the
good-sized
heap
with
which
he
had
begun
,
and
staked
them
all
.
He
lost
again
.
He
got
up
and
walked
out
.
Struck
by
the
wild
look
in
his
eyes
,
Litvinoff
followed
him
into
the
gardens
of
the
Casino
.
At
the
end
of
a
dark
alley
he
stopped
,
pulled
something
from
his
breast
,
which
might
have
been
a
cigar-case
,
opened
it
,
and
took
out
something
which
Litvinoff
saw
was
not
a
cigar
.
The
Count
sprang
forward
,
and
knocked
the
other
's
hand
up
just
in
time
to
send
a
tiny
bullet
whizzing
through
the
orange
trees
.
'
Damn
you
!
'
cried
the
other
,
in
English
,
turning
furiously
on
Litvinoff
.
'
What
the
devil
do
you
mean
?
'
'
Come
to
my
rooms
,
'
said
the
Count
simply
;
and
the
other
,
after
a
moment
's
hesitation
and
a
glance
of
sullen
defiance
,
actually
obeyed
,
and
in
silence
the
two
walked
side
by
side
out
of
the
gardens
.
When
the
door
of
his
sitting-room
was
closed
upon
them
,
Count
Litvinoff
waved
his
new
acquaintance
to
an
easy-chair
,
and
,
taking
one
himself
,
remarked
,
—
'
You
're
a
nice
sort
of
sportsman
,
are
n't
you
?
Suppose
you
have
some
tea
and
a
cigar
.
'
'
The
cigar
with
pleasure
;
but
tea
is
not
much
in
my
line
.
'
'
Ah
,
I
forgot
;
you
English
do
n't
worship
tea
as
we
Russians
do
.
By-the-way
,
as
there
's
no
one
else
to
perform
the
ceremony
,
I
may
as
well
introduce
myself
.
My
name
is
Michael
Litvinoff
.
'
The
other
looked
up
.
'
Let
me
withdraw
my
refusal
of
your
offer
just
now
.
I
must
confess
that
it
would
be
pleasant
to
me
to
drink
tea
,
or
anything
else
in
reason
,
in
the
company
of
the
man
who
has
written
"
Hopes
and
Fears
for
Liberty
.
"
'
The
tea
was
made
,
and
before
the
cigar
was
finished
Litvinoff
had
learned
not
only
that
his
new
friend
was
a
political
sympathiser
,
but
also
the
main
facts
in
the
young
man
's
personal
history
.
His
name
was
Armand
Percival
;
his
father
English
,
his
mother
French
.
He
had
been
brought
up
in
Paris
,
and
had
been
left
an
orphan
with
a
small
but
sufficient
property
,
which
,
with
an
energy
and
application
worthy
of
a
better
cause
,
he
had
managed
to
scatter
to
the
winds
before
a
year
was
over
.
It
was
the
last
remnant
of
this
little
possession
that
he
had
brought
to
Monte
Carlo
in
the
desperate
hope
of
retrieving
his
fallen
fortunes
,
and
with
the
fixed
determination
of
accepting
the
ruling
of
fate
and
of
ending
his
life
,
should
that
hope
be
unfulfilled
.
'
And
really
,
'
he
ended
,
'
you
would
have
done
better
to
have
been
judiciously
blind
in
the
gardens
just
now
,
and
have
let
the
farce
be
played
out
.
As
it
is
,
affairs
are
just
as
desperate
as
they
were
an
hour
ago
,
and
I
,
perhaps
thanks
to
your
good
tea
,
am
not
so
desperate
.
When
I
leave
you
I
must
go
and
grovel
under
the
orange
trees
till
I
find
that
pistol
,
for
I
have
n't
even
the
money
to
buy
another
.
'
'
It
wo
n't
do
to
let
the
world
lose
a
friend
of
liberty
in
this
fashion
.
They
are
scarce
enough
.
We
can
talk
this
over
to-morrow
.
Stay
here
to-night
.
We
'll
hunt
for
your
little
toy
by
daylight
if
you
like
.
'
They
did
find
the
pistol
the
next
day
.
By
that
time
they
had
had
a
good
deal
of
talk
together
,
and
Armand
Percival
had
become
the
private
secretary
of
Count
Michael
Litvinoff
.
Life
on
the
ancestral
estate
of
the
Litvinoffs
was
utterly
different
from
anything
Percival
had
ever
known
before
,
but
he
had
conceived
an
unbounded
admiration
and
affection
for
his
friend
and
employer
,
and
he
threw
himself
into
his
new
duties
with
an
ardour
which
made
boredom
simply
impossible
,
and
with
a
perseverance
almost
equalling
that
which
he
had
displayed
in
the
dissipation
of
his
little
fortune
.
He
helped
Litvinoff
in
all
his
literary
work
,
and
was
soon
admitted
to
his
fullest
confidence
.
His
new
life
was
wrapped
in
an
atmosphere
of
romance
,
and
it
contained
a
spice
of
danger
which
was
perfectly
congenial
to
his
nature
.
The
most
commonplace
action
ceases
to
be
commonplace
when
one
knows
that
one
risks
one
's
life
in
doing
it
.
He
soon
made
rapid
progress
in
the
Russian
language
—
Swinburne
was
given
up
for
Pouchkine
,
Tchernychewsky
displaced
Victor
Hugo
,
and
Percival
revelled
in
the
trenchant
muscular
style
of
Bakounin
as
he
had
once
delighted
in
the
voluptuous
sweetness
of
Théophile
Gautier
.
He
had
always
had
a
leaning
towards
Democracy
,
and
a
fitful
kind
of
enthusiasm
for
popular
liberty
.
The
strong
personal
influence
,
the
much
bigger
enthusiasm
,
and
the
intense
reality
of
Michael
Litvinoff
's
convictions
served
to
swell
what
had
been
a
little
stream
into
a
flood
with
a
tolerably
strong
current
.
Both
men
worked
hard
,
and
at
the
end
of
some
twenty
months
'
The
Social
Enigma
'
was
published
in
London
and
Paris
.
In
this
,
Litvinoff
's
great
work
,
he
managed
to
keep
just
on
the
right
side
of
the
hedge
,
but
he
indemnified
himself
for
this
self-denial
by
writing
a
little
pamphlet
,
called
'
A
Prophetic
Vision
,
'
which
was
published
by
the
Revolutionary
Secret
Press
,
and
circulated
among
the
peasants
,
for
whom
it
was
specially
written
;
and
all
those
concerned
in
its
publication
flattered
themselves
that
this
time
,
at
any
rate
,
the
chief
of
the
secret
police
and
his
creatures
,
in
spite
of
their
having
obtained
a
copy
twenty-four
hours
after
it
was
printed
,
were
thoroughly
off
the
track
.
One
night
in
winter
the
secretary
sat
at
his
old-fashioned
desk
in
the
oak-panelled
room
in
the
east
wing
of
the
mansion
.
Big
logs
glowed
on
the
immense
open
hearth
,
in
front
of
which
a
great
hound
stretched
its
lazy
length
.
The
secretary
was
correcting
manuscripts
in
a
somewhat
desultory
way
,
and
varying
the
monotony
of
the
penwork
with
frequent
puffs
of
cigarette
smoke
.
Some
wine
stood
at
his
elbow
.
Count
Litvinoff
had
been
away
ten
days
,
and
would
be
away
as
long
again
.
He
had
gone
to
a
meeting
of
friends
of
the
cause
at
Odessa
,
and
Percival
felt
the
strength
of
his
enthusiasm
beginning
to
give
way
before
the
appalling
deadly
dulness
of
his
perfectly
solitary
life
.
There
was
not
a
creature
to
speak
to
within
miles
except
the
servants
,
and
Russian
servants
,
as
a
class
,
are
not
much
of
a
resource
against
ennui
.
He
flung
down
his
pen
at
last
,
leaned
back
in
his
chair
,
and
poured
himself
out
some
more
wine
.
He
held
it
up
to
the
light
to
admire
its
ruby
colour
,
and
then
tasted
it
appreciatively
.
'
H
'm
!
not
bad
.
About
the
best
thing
in
the
place
now
its
master
's
away
.
Heigho
!
—
heigho
!
this
is
very
slow
,
which
,
by-the-way
,
is
rhyme
.
'
He
spoke
the
words
aloud
,
and
the
hound
on
the
bearskin
by
the
fire
rose
,
stretched
itself
,
and
came
slowly
to
lay
its
great
head
on
his
knee
.
'
Well
,
old
girl
,
I
daresay
you
'd
like
a
little
hunting
for
a
change
.
Upon
my
soul
it
's
almost
a
pity
we
're
so
very
clever
in
keeping
our
literary
achievements
dark
.
We
should
have
something
exciting
then
at
anyrate
,
and
I
'd
give
anything
for
a
little
excitement
.
'
'
You
're
likely
to
have
as
much
as
you
care
about
,
then
,
'
said
another
voice
,
which
made
Percival
leap
to
his
feet
as
the
purple
curtains
that
hung
across
the
arched
entrance
to
the
sleeping-room
were
flung
back
,
and
a
tall
figure
,
muffled
in
furs
,
strode
forward
.
The
dog
sprang
at
it
.
'
Down
,
Olga
!
Quiet
,
quiet
,
old
lady
!
'
The
coat
was
thrown
off
,
and
fell
with
a
flop
to
the
ground
;
and
Litvinoff
held
out
his
hand
to
his
secretary
,
who
had
started
back
and
caught
up
the
manuscripts
,
and
was
holding
them
behind
him
.
'
Good
heavens
!
'
said
Percival
.
'
Litvinoff
,
what
is
it
?
Are
they
after
you
?
How
did
you
come
in
?
'
'
I
came
in
the
way
we
must
go
out
before
another
half-hour
.
They
've
found
out
the
distinguished
author
of
the
"
Vision
,
"
and
they
're
anxious
to
secure
the
wonder
.
Lock
that
door
;
we
do
n't
want
the
servants
.
'
'
It
is
locked
.
I
do
n't
do
work
of
this
sort
with
unlocked
doors
.
'
Litvinoff
glanced
at
the
manuscript
on
the
oak
writing-table
.
'
We
must
collect
all
this
and
burn
it
,
though
I
do
n't
think
we
could
be
deeper
damned
than
we
are
,
even
if
we
left
it
alone
.
'
'
But
where
have
you
come
from
?
'
asked
Percival
,
laying
his
hand
on
the
other
's
shoulder
.
'
You
're
wet
through
.
Have
a
drink
,
'
and
he
poured
out
a
tumbler
of
the
Burgundy
.
Litvinoff
took
it
,
and
as
he
set
down
the
glass
replied
,
'
I
fell
into
some
water
.
There
was
snow
enough
to
hide
the
ice
.
'
'
Well
,
then
,
the
very
first
thing
is
to
change
your
clothes
.
Shall
I
get
you
dry
ones
,
or
will
you
go
?
'
'
No
,
no
;
neither
of
us
must
leave
this
room
.
There
may
be
a
traitor
in
the
house
for
aught
I
know
.
No
one
saw
me
come
in
.
I
shall
do
well
enough
.
'
'
You
may
as
well
be
executed
at
once
as
be
frozen
to
death
in
the
course
of
the
night
.
You
must
make
shift
with
some
of
my
things
.
You
change
while
I
see
to
the
papers
.
We
can
talk
while
you
're
changing
.
'
Each
went
deftly
and
swiftly
about
what
he
had
to
do
,
and
neither
seemed
to
be
in
the
least
thrown
off
his
balance
.
There
was
much
less
fuss
than
there
is
in
some
families
every
morning
when
the
'
City
man
'
is
hurrying
to
catch
his
train
.
Drawer
after
drawer
was
emptied
out
on
the
wide
hearthstones
,
and
as
stern
denunciations
of
tyranny
and
eloquent
appeals
to
the
spirit
of
freedom
vanished
in
smoke
and
sparks
up
the
great
chimney
,
Percival
,
a
little
puffed
by
his
exertions
,
asked
,
'
How
soon
must
we
go
?
What
's
the
exact
state
of
things
?
'
'
Our
friends
at
Odessa
were
warned
.
There
's
an
order
for
my
arrest
.
I
was
to
have
been
taken
at
Odessa
,
and
long
before
this
they
'll
have
found
out
that
I
'm
not
there
,
and
will
have
started
after
me
here
.
'
'
But
how
are
we
to
go
?
Are
we
to
walk
,
and
fall
into
a
succession
of
pools
?
Ca
n't
we
get
some
horses
from
the
stable
?
'
'
I
have
a
sleigh
not
a
quarter
of
a
mile
off
.
Zabrousky
is
with
it
,
waiting
.
We
can
reach
Kilsen
to-night
,
and
get
horses
for
the
frontier
.
There
is
a
revolver
in
the
desk
.
The
one
in
my
belt
is
full
of
water
.
I
've
got
two
passports
that
will
carry
us
over
.
You
are
Monsieur
Mericourt
of
Paris
,
and
I
am
Herr
Baum
of
Düsseldorf
,
friends
travelling
.
'
It
was
lucky
that
this
room
,
the
ordinary
work-room
of
the
friends
,
contained
all
their
secrets
and
most
of
their
'
portable
property
.
'
'
How
about
money
?
'
asked
the
secretary
.
'
There
are
three
hundred
Napoleons
in
the
cash-box
.
Those
will
be
best
to
take
.
By-the-way
,
stick
a
French
novel
into
your
portmanteau
,
and
throw
in
anything
you
can
to
fill
it
up
.
We
have
the
frontier
to
pass
.
You
know
I
am
all
right
at
Paris
or
Vienna
.
'
'
Oh
,
yes
,
'
rejoined
Percival
.
'
If
we
get
there
we
're
all
right
.
But
these
clothes
of
yours
;
we
must
hide
them
,
or
they
'll
tell
tales
.
'
'
Oh
,
bring
them
with
you
,
and
leave
the
room
in
order
.
'
'
Yes
,
and
I
must
take
a
revolver
myself
.
We
'll
give
a
good
account
of
a
few
of
those
brutes
if
they
come
too
close
.
'
'
Are
we
ready
?
I
'll
take
the
portmanteau
,
you
carry
those
clothes
.
Now
then
,
lights
out
.
Give
me
your
hand
.
'
The
candles
were
blown
out
,
and
Litvinoff
led
the
way
through
the
bedroom
and
through
a
tiny
door
in
the
panelled
wall
,
of
whose
existence
Percival
had
been
up
to
this
moment
ignorant
.
They
passed
down
a
narrow
staircase
,
in
a
niche
of
whose
wall
they
left
the
wet
garments
,
and
,
passing
through
a
stone
passage
or
two
,
suddenly
came
out
into
the
ice-cold
air
at
an
angle
of
the
house
quite
other
than
that
at
which
Percival
had
expected
to
find
himself
.
Litvinoff
shivered
.
'
I
miss
my
cloak
,
'
he
said
.
'
However
,
there
are
plenty
of
skins
in
the
sleigh
.
'
The
snow
fell
lightly
on
them
as
they
hurried
quietly
away
;
it
did
its
best
with
its
cold
feathery
veil
to
hide
the
footsteps
of
the
fugitives
.
'
Is
this
exciting
enough
for
you
?
'
asked
the
Count
as
they
strode
along
under
cover
of
the
trees
.
'
Quite
,
thanks
—
I
think
I
should
be
able
to
submit
to
a
little
less
excitement
with
equanimity
.
It
wo
n't
be
actually
unpleasant
to
be
out
of
the
dominions
of
his
sacred
majesty
.
'
'
This
excitement
is
nothing
to
what
we
shall
have
in
getting
over
the
frontier
,
'
said
Litvinoff
;
'
that
's
where
the
tug
of
war
will
come
.
Percival
,
'
he
went
on
after
a
pause
,
'
I
shall
never
forgive
myself
if
you
suffer
in
this
business
through
me
.
'
'
My
dear
fellow
,
'
Percival
answered
cheerfully
,
'
if
it
had
not
been
for
you
I
should
have
been
out
of
it
all
long
ago
,
and
if
the
worst
comes
to
the
worst
,
there
's
still
a
way
out
of
it
.
As
long
as
I
have
my
trusty
little
friend
here
,
'
tapping
the
revolver
in
his
breast
pocket
,
'
I
do
n't
intend
to
see
the
inside
of
St
Peter
and
St
Paul
.
'
As
he
spoke
they
heard
the
sound
of
horses
'
restless
hoofs
.
'
What
's
that
?
'
'
All
right
!
'
returned
Litvinoff
.
'
They
're
our
horses
.
'
Behind
a
clump
of
fir
trees
the
sleigh
was
waiting
,
and
beside
it
a
man
on
a
horse
.
The
two
friends
entered
the
sleigh
,
and
adjusted
the
furs
about
them
,
and
Litvinoff
took
the
reins
.
'
Good
speed
,
'
said
Zabrousky
;
'
a
safe
journey
,
and
a
good
deliverance
.
'
'
Good-bye
,
'
Litvinoff
said
.
'
Do
n't
stay
here
a
moment
.
It
may
cost
you
your
life
.
'
In
another
instant
the
horseman
had
turned
and
left
them
,
and
the
jingling
of
the
harness
and
the
noise
of
the
fleet
hoofs
were
the
only
sounds
that
broke
the
dense
night
silence
as
the
sleigh
sped
forward
.
'
Have
you
any
idea
what
the
time
is
?
'
said
Litvinoff
,
when
they
had
travelled
smoothly
over
three
or
four
miles
of
snow
.
'
It
's
too
cold
to
get
watches
out
,
and
too
dark
to
see
them
if
we
did
.
'
'
It
must
be
past
two
,
'
said
Percival
.
'
It
must
have
been
past
midnight
when
you
came
in
.
I
wonder
what
time
those
devils
will
reach
the
empty
nest
.
'
'
The
later
the
better
for
us
,
and
the
servants
will
mix
things
a
bit
by
telling
them
that
I
've
not
been
home
.
At
this
rate
we
shall
reach
Eckovitch
's
place
about
four
.
We
can
stretch
our
legs
there
while
he
rubs
the
horses
down
a
bit
.
'
'
Will
that
be
safe
?
Is
he
to
be
trusted
?
'
'
My
dear
Percival
,
this
line
of
retreat
has
been
marked
out
a
long
time
.
Eckovitch
has
been
ready
for
me
any
time
these
three
years
.
'
Nothing
more
was
said
.
The
situation
was
too
grave
for
mere
chatter
,
and
there
was
nothing
of
importance
that
needed
saying
just
then
.
Percival
leaned
back
among
the
furs
,
which
were
by
this
time
covered
with
snow
,
and
Litvinoff
seemed
to
be
concentrating
all
his
attention
on
his
driving
,
using
the
horses
as
gently
as
possible
,
and
continually
leaning
forward
and
peering
into
the
darkness
to
make
out
the
track
,
which
was
becoming
no
easy
task
,
as
the
steady
falling
snow
was
fast
obliterating
the
landmarks
.
The
secretary
,
overcome
by
that
drowsiness
which
results
from
swift
movement
through
bitterly
cold
air
,
was
almost
asleep
,
when
the
horses
slackened
speed
,
and
the
change
in
the
motion
roused
him
.
'
What
's
up
?
What
's
wrong
?
'
he
asked
.
'
All
right
.
Here
's
Eckovitch
!
'
and
as
he
spoke
the
sleigh
drew
up
in
front
of
a
long
,
low
wooden
building
.
He
handed
the
reins
to
Percival
,
sprang
to
the
ground
,
and
battered
at
the
door
.
After
a
short
pause
a
light
could
be
seen
within
,
and
a
voice
asked
,
—
'
Who
's
there
?
'
The
Count
answered
with
one
word
which
had
a
Russian
sound
,
but
which
Percival
had
never
heard
before
.
The
door
was
opened
at
once
,
and
after
a
few
low-spoken
words
between
Litvinoff
and
someone
within
,
a
man
came
out
and
took
the
reins
,
and
Percival
left
the
sleigh
and
followed
his
friend
into
the
house
.
A
woman
was
already
busy
in
fanning
into
new
life
the
red
ashes
that
had
been
covered
over
on
the
hearth
.
She
flung
on
some
chips
and
fir
cones
,
and
soon
the
crackling
wood
blazed
up
and
showed
the
homely
but
not
uncomfortable
interior
.
As
the
two
travellers
shook
the
snow
off
their
furs
,
Percival
asked
in
English
who
this
man
was
.
'
A
friend
,
'
Litvinoff
answered
.
'
He
's
supposed
to
be
an
innkeeper
,
but
there
are
n't
many
travellers
on
this
road
.
We
make
up
deficiencies
in
his
income
.
'
They
drew
seats
up
to
the
fire
,
and
the
woman
brought
them
some
glasses
and
a
flask
of
vodka
.
'
You
shall
have
some
tea
in
a
minute
.
'
'
I
hate
this
liquid
fire
,
'
said
Percival
,
'
and
I
like
tea
better
than
I
did
at
Monte
Carlo
.
I
'll
wait
for
that
.
'
'
Drink
this
,
and
do
n't
be
too
particular
.
It
'll
help
to
keep
us
going
,
and
we
'll
take
the
fag
end
of
the
flask
with
us
,
'
Litvinoff
answered
.
When
the
tea
was
ready
,
and
some
sausage
and
bread
were
set
before
the
strangers
,
the
woman
sat
down
on
the
other
side
of
the
hearth
and
looked
at
them
as
they
ate
,
which
they
did
with
fairly
good
appetites
.
Presently
a
low
wailing
cry
arose
from
the
further
corner
of
the
room
,
and
the
woman
went
and
took
up
a
funny
old-fashioned
looking
little
baby
,
and
,
returning
to
her
seat
by
the
fire
,
sat
hushing
it
with
low
whispers
of
endearment
.
It
was
a
strangely
peaceful
little
scene
,
between
two
acts
of
a
sufficiently
exciting
drama
,
which
,
for
aught
any
of
the
actors
knew
,
might
end
as
a
tragedy
.
The
spell
of
silence
which
had
been
over
them
in
the
sleigh
was
broken
now
,
and
they
chatted
lightly
over
their
hasty
meal
.
The
Count
's
demeanour
in
the
face
of
danger
was
a
thing
after
Percival
's
own
heart
,
and
he
had
never
admired
his
friend
so
much
as
he
did
,
when
,
the
meal
being
over
,
Litvinoff
leaned
back
nonchalantly
,
stroking
his
long
fair
moustache
and
stirring
his
final
cup
of
tea
.
The
secretary
's
own
calmness
was
really
more
remarkable
,
however
,
since
he
was
in
the
position
of
a
young
soldier
under
fire
for
the
first
time
,
whereas
Litvinoff
had
known
for
eight
years
that
at
any
moment
he
might
be
arrested
,
or
might
have
to
fly
.
'
Your
horses
will
do
to
get
to
Kilsen
now
,
'
said
the
man
,
opening
the
door
;
'
you
were
wise
to
give
them
this
rest
.
They
'd
not
have
done
without
it
.
'
'
Poor
brutes
,
'
said
the
Count
,
'
I
wish
we
could
give
them
longer
,
but
every
minute
's
of
consequence
.
'
'
You
'll
cross
the
frontier
at
Ergratz
,
I
suppose
,
'
said
the
innkeeper
,
as
they
came
out
into
the
air
.
The
weather
had
changed
in
the
little
time
they
had
been
in
shelter
.
The
snow
was
no
longer
falling
;
through
a
break
in
the
clouds
one
or
two
stars
twinkled
frostily
,
and
the
wind
was
blowing
the
snow
off
the
road
in
drifts
.
As
the
sleigh
glided
away
the
man
re-entered
his
house
and
bolted
the
door
,
and
in
five
minutes
the
fire
was
raked
together
and
covered
over
,
the
light
was
extinguished
,
and
no
sign
left
to
show
that
wayfarers
had
been
entertained
there
that
night
.
'
We
'll
take
the
horses
easily
a
bit
now
,
'
said
Litvinoff
;
'
there
'll
be
some
stiffish
hills
by-and-by
.
'
They
seemed
to
have
been
on
the
road
for
about
six
nights
instead
of
one
,
when
,
nearly
half
way
up
one
of
these
same
stiffish
hills
,
Percival
laid
his
hand
on
Litvinoff
's
shoulder
.
'
Stop
a
moment
,
'
he
said
,
'
I
heard
hoofs
behind
.
'
They
stopped
,
listened
,
and
heard
nothing
.
'
It
must
have
been
the
echo
of
our
own
hoofs
among
these
hills
.
If
they
are
near
enough
to
be
heard
,
it
's
all
up
with
us
.
They
're
sure
to
be
well
mounted
.
However
,
we
'll
do
our
best
to
get
on
to
Kilsen
,
and
get
mounted
ourselves
before
morning
.
'
But
morning
was
beginning
to
break
,
and
with
it
came
fresh
snow
.
At
the
foot
of
the
next
hill
the
secretary
spoke
again
.
'
Litvinoff
,
I
'm
certain
I
hear
hoofs
,
and
a
good
many
of
them
.
'
'
So
do
I
.
We
'll
whip
on
—
they
ca
n't
hear
us
,
the
wind
blows
from
them
.
We
'll
try
another
chance
presently
.
I
do
n't
think
we
can
win
by
speed
.
'
He
urged
on
the
tired
horses
with
voice
and
whip
,
and
the
weary
animals
put
forth
their
strength
in
a
wilder
gallop
.
They
were
now
rushing
very
swiftly
through
the
icy
air
,
and
every
moment
increased
the
pace
.
They
had
to
slacken
a
little
in
going
up
the
last
and
highest
hill
,
near
the
crown
of
which
they
turned
back
their
heads
,
and
saw
that
what
they
had
been
flying
from
all
night
was
close
upon
them
now
.
Over
the
brow
of
a
lower
hill
immediately
behind
them
came
a
band
of
horsemen
,
about
a
dozen
strong
as
it
seemed
in
the
pale
grey
of
the
dawn
.
'
We
must
leave
the
sleigh
,
'
said
Litvinoff
.
'
Almost
in
a
line
across
country
to
the
left
,
not
more
than
two
versts
off
,
is
the
house
of
Teliaboff
;
there
we
are
safe
for
a
day
or
two
,
if
we
can
get
there
unseen
.
It
's
a
desperate
chance
,
but
we
must
try
it
.
Prop
up
the
portmanteau
and
the
furs
to
look
like
our
figures
.
We
'll
tie
the
reins
here
,
and
get
out
just
over
the
brow
.
They
'll
see
us
as
we
go
over
.
Those
Cossacks
have
eyes
like
eagles
.
We
'll
lash
the
horses
on
,
and
they
'll
go
some
distance
without
us
;
and
when
those
devils
find
we
're
not
in
the
sleigh
they
wo
n't
know
exactly
where
to
begin
to
search
for
us
.
Thank
God
,
it
's
snowing
harder
and
harder
.
That
will
help
to
hide
our
traces
;
and
over
this
broken
ground
to
the
left
our
legs
will
serve
us
better
than
their
horses
will
them
.
'
'
There
's
barely
a
chance
,
'
said
the
secretary
.
'
Let
's
stay
and
fight
it
out
.
'
'
We
'll
fight
if
the
worst
comes
to
the
worst
;
but
as
it
is
we
've
a
very
fair
chance
of
escape
.
We
have
our
revolvers
.
'
As
they
crossed
the
brow
of
the
hill
a
wild
shout
borne
by
the
wind
told
them
that
the
Count
had
been
right
.
They
had
been
seen
.
Litvinoff
stopped
the
horses
,
and
the
two
men
got
out
,
leaving
the
counterfeit
presentment
of
themselves
,
which
the
secretary
's
deft
hands
had
invested
with
a
very
real
appearance
.
The
Count
gave
two
tremendous
lashes
,
the
horses
sprang
madly
forward
at
three
times
the
pace
they
had
made
hitherto
,
and
the
two
fugitives
plunged
through
the
snow
to
the
left
of
the
road
.
'
Do
n't
go
too
fast
,
'
whispered
Litvinoff
;
'
you
'll
need
all
your
wind
presently
.
We
've
a
fair
start
now
,
and
they
ca
n't
follow
on
horseback
.
'
They
had
not
gone
two
hundred
yards
before
they
heard
the
troop
sweep
by
.
'
We
were
n't
a
minute
too
soon
,
'
the
secretary
said
.
'
There
goes
another
of
them
,
'
said
the
Count
,
as
again
they
caught
the
sound
of
a
horse
's
snow-muffled
hoofs
.
On
they
went
,
struggling
over
rough
ground
,
sometimes
waist-deep
in
snowdrifts
,
sometimes
tripping
over
concealed
stones
or
broken
wood
.
'
We
shall
do
it
now
,
'
said
Litvinoff
.
'
They
're
on
us
,
by
God
!
'
cried
the
secretary
at
the
same
instant
.
They
turned
;
they
had
been
tracked
,
but
only
by
one
man
.
One
of
the
pursuers
,
who
had
been
a
little
behind
the
others
,
either
better
trained
in
this
sort
of
sport
than
his
fellows
,
or
guided
by
some
sixth
sense
,
seemed
to
have
divined
what
they
had
done
,
and
had
dismounted
just
at
the
right
place
,
and
followed
them
on
foot
.
He
gave
a
yell
of
triumph
as
he
saw
a
grey
figure
struggling
up
the
incline
before
him
.
'
Aha
,
Mr
Secretary
,
'
he
cried
,
and
,
raising
his
carbine
,
fired
;
the
grey
figure
stumbled
forward
into
the
snow
.
'
You
're
done
for
,
at
any
rate
!
'
The
Cossack
's
triumph
was
a
short
one
.
As
he
dashed
forward
to
secure
his
fallen
quarry
,
another
figure
sprang
from
the
snowy
brushwood
a
little
ahead
of
him
,
walked
calmly
towards
him
,
raised
a
revolver
,
and
shot
him
through
the
heart
.
A
week
or
two
later
one
of
those
short
and
inaccurate
paragraphs
which
date
from
St
Petersburg
appeared
in
several
European
papers
.
It
was
to
the
effect
that
Count
Michael
Litvinoff
had
been
captured
,
after
a
desperate
struggle
,
near
the
frontier
,
and
that
his
private
secretary
,
a
young
Englishman
,
had
been
shot
in
the
fray
.
But
the
French
papers
knew
better
,
and
that
report
was
promptly
contradicted
.
The
Débats
,
while
confirming
the
news
of
the
secretary
's
death
,
asserted
that
Count
Michael
Litvinoff
was
at
that
moment
at
the
Hôtel
du
Louvre
,
and
his
bankers
would
have
confirmed
the
statement
.
And
in
the
rooms
of
the
Count
at
the
Hôtel
du
Louvre
a
haggard
,
weary-faced
man
,
almost
worn
out
by
the
desperate
excitement
and
the
horrors
of
the
last
few
weeks
,
was
pacing
up
and
down
,
unable
to
get
away
from
the
picture
,
that
was
ever
before
his
eyes
,
of
his
friend
's
dead
face
,
bloodstained
and
upturned
from
the
snow
,
in
the
cold
,
grey
morning
light
;
unable
to
escape
from
that
triumphant
shout
,
'
Aha
,
Mr
Secretary
,
you
're
done
for
,
at
any
rate
,
'
which
seemed
as
if
it
would
ring
for
ever
in
his
ears
.
'
I
would
give
ten
years
of
my
life
to
undo
that
night
's
work
.
I
shall
never
meet
another
man
quite
like
him
.
I
wish
the
brute
had
shot
me
,
'
he
said
to
himself
over
and
over
again
.
FATHER
AND
SONS
.
THE
light
was
fading
among
the
Derbyshire
hills
.
The
trees
,
now
almost
bare
,
were
stirred
by
the
fretful
wind
into
what
seemed
like
a
passionate
wail
for
their
own
lost
loveliness
,
and
on
the
wide
bare
stretch
of
moorland
behind
the
house
the
strange
weird
cry
of
the
plovers
sounded
like
a
dirge
over
the
dead
summer
.
The
sharp
,
intermittent
rain
had
beaten
all
the
beauty
out
of
the
few
late
autumn
flowers
in
the
garden
,
and
it
was
tender
of
the
twilight
to
hasten
to
deepen
into
a
darkness
heavy
enough
to
hide
such
a
grey
desolate
picture
.
Inside
Thornsett
Edge
another
and
a
deeper
darkness
was
falling
.
Old
Richard
Ferrier
was
sick
unto
death
,
and
he
alone
of
all
the
household
knew
it
.
He
knew
it
,
and
he
was
not
sorry
.
Yet
he
sighed
.
'
What
is
it
,
Richard
?
Can
I
get
you
anything
?
'
A
woman
sitting
behind
his
bed-curtain
leaned
forward
to
put
the
question
—
a
faded
woman
,
with
grey
curls
and
a
face
marked
with
deep
care
lines
.
It
was
his
sister
.
'
Where
are
the
boys
?
'
'
Gone
to
Aspinshaw
.
'
'
Both
of
them
?
'
'
Yes
;
I
asked
Dick
to
take
a
note
for
me
,
and
Roland
said
he
'd
go
too
.
'
The
old
man
looked
pleased
.
'
Did
you
want
either
of
them
?
'
she
asked
.
'
I
want
them
both
when
they
come
in
.
'
'
Suppose
you
are
asleep
?
'
'
I
shall
not
sleep
until
I
have
seen
my
sons
.
'
'
Art
thee
better
to-night
,
Richard
?
'
she
asked
in
a
tone
of
tender
solicitude
,
dropping
back
,
as
people
so
often
do
in
moments
of
anxiety
,
into
the
soft
sing-song
accent
that
had
once
been
habitual
to
her
.
'
Ay
,
I
'm
better
,
lass
,
'
he
said
,
returning
the
pressure
of
the
hand
she
laid
on
his
.
'
Wilt
have
a
light
?
'
'
Not
yet
a-bit
,
'
he
answered
.
'
I
like
to
lie
so
,
and
watch
the
day
right
out
,
'
and
he
turned
his
face
towards
the
square
of
grey
sky
framed
by
the
window
.
There
was
hardly
more
pleasantness
left
in
his
life
than
in
the
dreary
rain-washed
garden
outside
.
And
yet
his
life
had
not
been
without
its
triumphs
—
as
the
world
counts
success
.
He
had
,
when
still
young
,
married
the
woman
he
passionately
loved
,
and
work
for
her
sake
had
seemed
so
easy
that
he
had
risen
from
poverty
to
competence
,
and
from
competence
to
wealth
.
Born
in
the
poorest
ranks
of
the
workers
in
a
crowded
Stockport
alley
,
he
had
started
in
life
as
a
mill
'
hand
,
'
and
he
was
ending
it
now
a
millowner
,
and
master
of
many
hands
.
He
had
himself
been
taught
in
no
school
but
that
of
life
;
but
he
did
not
attribute
his
own
success
to
his
education
any
more
than
he
did
the
fatuous
failure
of
some
University
men
to
their
peculiar
training
;
so
he
had
sent
his
sons
to
Cambridge
,
and
had
lived
to
see
them
leave
their
college
well-grown
and
handsome
,
with
not
more
than
the
average
stock
of
prejudices
and
follies
,
and
fit
to
be
compared
,
not
unfavourably
,
with
any
young
men
in
the
county
.
But
by
some
fatality
he
had
never
tasted
the
full
sweetness
of
any
of
the
fruit
his
life-tree
had
borne
him
.
His
parents
had
died
in
want
and
misery
at
a
time
when
he
himself
was
too
poor
to
help
them
.
His
wife
,
who
had
bravely
shared
his
earlier
struggles
,
did
not
live
to
share
their
reward
.
She
patiently
bore
the
trials
of
their
early
married
life
,
but
in
the
comfort
that
was
to
follow
she
had
no
part
.
She
died
,
and
left
him
almost
broken-hearted
.
Her
memory
would
always
be
the
dearest
thing
in
the
world
to
him
;
but
a
man
's
warm
,
living
,
beating
heart
needs
something
more
than
a
memory
to
lavish
its
love
upon
.
This
something
more
he
found
in
her
children
.
In
them
all
his
hopes
had
been
centred
;
for
them
all
his
efforts
had
been
made
.
They
were
,
individually
,
all
that
he
had
dreamed
they
might
be
,
and
they
were
both
devoted
to
him
;
and
yet
,
as
he
lay
on
his
deathbed
,
his
mind
was
ill
at
ease
about
them
.
Did
he
exaggerate
?
Was
it
weakness
and
illness
,
the
beginning
of
the
end
,
that
had
made
him
think
,
through
these
last
few
weeks
,
that
there
was
growing
up
between
these
two
beloved
sons
a
coolness
—
a
want
of
sympathy
,
an
indisposition
to
run
well
in
harness
together
—
which
might
lead
to
sore
trouble
?
There
certainly
had
been
one
or
two
slight
quarrels
between
them
which
had
been
made
up
through
his
own
intervention
.
How
would
it
be
,
he
wondered
,
when
he
was
not
there
any
more
to
smooth
things
over
?
Somehow
he
did
not
feel
that
he
cared
to
live
any
longer
,
even
to
keep
peace
between
his
boys
.
That
must
be
done
some
other
way
.
Truth
to
say
,
he
was
very
tired
of
being
alive
.
The
October
day
faded
,
and
presently
the
sick-room
was
lighted
only
by
the
red
flickering
glow
of
the
fire
,
which
threw
strange
fantastic
shadows
from
the
handsome
commonplace
furniture
,
and
made
the
portraits
on
the
walls
seem
to
look
out
of
their
frames
with
quite
new
expressions
.
Old
Ferrier
lay
looking
at
the
pictures
in
a
tremor
of
expectation
that
made
the
time
seem
very
long
indeed
.
At
last
his
strained
sense
caught
the
faint
click
of
the
Brahma
lock
as
it
was
opened
by
a
key
from
without
,
and
the
bang
of
the
front
door
as
it
was
closed
somewhat
hurriedly
from
within
.
'
There
they
are
,
'
he
said
at
once
.
'
Send
them
up
,
Letitia
.
'
As
she
laid
her
hand
on
the
door
to
open
it
,
another
hand
grasped
the
handle
on
the
other
side
,
and
a
tall
,
broad-shouldered
young
fellow
came
in
,
with
the
glisten
of
rain
still
on
his
brown
moustache
,
and
on
his
great-coat
,
seeming
to
bring
with
him
a
breath
of
freshness
and
the
night
air
.
'
Ah
,
Dick
!
I
was
just
coming
down
for
you
.
Where
is
Roland
?
'
'
He
stayed
awhile
at
Aspinshaw
.
How
's
father
?
'
'
Awake
,
and
asking
for
you
,
'
said
his
aunt
,
and
went
away
,
closing
the
door
softly
.
'
Well
,
dad
,
how
goes
it
?
'
said
the
new-comer
,
stepping
forward
into
the
glow
of
the
firelight
.
'
Light
the
candles
,
'
said
his
father
,
without
answering
the
question
,
and
the
young
man
lighted
two
in
heavy
silver
candlesticks
which
stood
on
the
dressing-table
.
As
their
pale
light
fell
on
the
white
face
lying
against
the
hardly
whiter
pillow
,
Dick
's
eyes
scrutinised
it
anxiously
.
'
You
do
n't
look
any
better
,
'
he
said
,
sitting
down
by
the
bed
,
and
taking
his
father
's
hand
.
'
I
wish
I
'd
been
at
home
when
that
doctor
came
yesterday
.
'
'
I
'm
glad
you
were
n't
Dick
;
I
'd
rather
tell
you
myself
.
I
wish
your
brother
were
here
.
'
'
I
daresay
he
wo
n't
be
long
,
'
said
the
other
,
frowning
a
little
,
while
the
lines
about
his
mouth
grew
hard
and
set
;
'
but
what
did
the
doctor
say
?
Aunt
Letitia
did
n't
seem
to
know
anything
about
it
.
'
'
He
told
me
I
should
n't
live
to
see
another
birthday
,
'
said
the
old
man
.
He
had
rehearsed
in
his
own
mind
over
and
over
again
how
he
should
break
this
news
to
his
boys
,
and
now
he
was
telling
it
in
a
way
quite
other
than
any
that
had
been
in
his
rehearsals
.
'
Not
see
another
birthday
!
'
echoed
his
son
.
'
Nonsense
!
Why
,
father
,
'
he
added
,
with
a
sudden
start
,
'
your
birthday
's
on
Wednesday
.
How
could
he
?
I
'll
write
to
him
.
'
'
My
dear
boy
,
I
felt
it
before
he
told
me
.
He
only
put
into
words
what
I
've
known
ever
since
I
've
been
lying
here
.
There
's
no
getting
over
it
.
I
'm
going
.
'
Dick
did
not
speak
.
He
pressed
his
father
's
hand
hard
,
and
then
,
letting
it
fall
,
he
walked
over
to
the
hearthrug
,
and
stood
with
his
hands
behind
him
,
looking
into
the
fire
.
'
Come
back
;
come
here
!
'
said
the
wavering
voice
from
the
bed
.
'
I
want
you
,
Dick
.
'
'
Ca
n't
I
do
something
for
you
,
dad
?
'
he
said
,
in
very
much
lower
tones
than
usual
,
as
he
sat
down
again
by
the
bed
.
He
kept
his
face
in
the
shadow
of
the
curtain
.
'
We
've
always
got
on
very
well
together
,
Dick
.
'
'
Yes
—
we
've
been
very
good
friends
.
'
'
I
wish
you
were
as
good
friends
with
your
brother
as
you
are
with
your
old
father
.
'
'
I
'm
not
bad
friends
with
him
;
and
,
after
all
,
your
father
's
your
father
,
and
that
makes
all
the
difference
.
'
'
Your
brother
will
soon
be
the
nearest
thing
in
the
world
to
you
.
Oh
,
my
boy
,
'
said
old
Ferrier
,
suddenly
raising
himself
on
his
elbow
,
and
clasping
Dick
's
strong
right
hand
in
both
his
,
'
for
God
's
sake
,
do
n't
quarrel
with
him
!
If
you
ever
cared
for
me
,
keep
friends
with
him
.
If
you
and
he
were
n't
friends
,
I
could
n't
lie
easy
in
my
grave
.
And
it
's
been
a
long
life
—
I
should
like
to
lie
easy
at
last
!
'
'
I
do
n't
quarrel
with
him
,
father
.
'
'
Well
,
lad
—
well
,
I
've
thought
you
did
;
perhaps
I
'm
wrong
.
Anyway
,
do
n't
quarrel
—
if
it
's
only
for
your
old
dad
's
sake
.
I
've
loved
you
both
so
dearly
.
'
'
I
will
try
to
do
everything
you
wish
.
'
'
I
know
you
will
,
Dick
.
You
always
have
done
that
.
Was
that
Roland
just
came
in
?
If
it
is
,
send
him
to
me
.
'
The
young
man
stood
silently
for
a
few
moments
.
Then
he
bent
down
over
his
father
and
kissed
his
forehead
twice
.
When
he
left
the
room
he
met
a
servant
on
the
landing
.
'
Is
Mr
Roland
at
home
yet
?
'
'
Yes
,
sir
;
he
's
just
come
in
.
'
'
Tell
him
Mr
Ferrier
wishes
to
see
him
at
once
.
'
'
Miss
Ferrier
told
him
,
sir
,
directly
he
came
in
.
'
He
turned
and
went
to
his
own
room
.
A
quarter
of
an
hour
later
Roland
stood
outside
his
father
's
door
.
He
opened
it
gently
,
and
entered
,
his
slippered
feet
treading
the
floor
of
the
sick-room
as
silently
as
a
nurse
's
.
As
he
stood
a
moment
in
the
dim
light
,
eyes
less
keen
and
less
expectant
than
those
looking
at
him
from
the
bed
might
have
easily
mistaken
him
for
his
brother
.
The
slight
difference
in
breadth
of
shoulder
and
depth
of
chest
was
concealed
by
the
loose
indoor
jacket
he
wore
.
There
was
no
trace
about
him
of
his
wet
and
muddy
walk
,
and
he
looked
altogether
a
much
fitter
occupant
for
the
easy-chair
that
stood
at
the
sick
man
's
bedside
than
the
stalwart
,
weather-stained
,
and
unsympathetic-looking
figure
that
had
last
sat
in
it
.
'
Rowley
,
why
did
n't
you
come
before
?
'
began
the
old
man
.
'
Oh
,
I
could
n't
,
father
.
It
is
a
beastly
night
.
I
was
awfully
wet
and
muddy
.
I
only
waited
to
change
my
things
,
and
make
myself
presentable
.
How
are
you
to-night
?
'
'
Your
brother
came
up
wet
enough
,
'
was
all
the
answer
.
'
Did
he
?
What
a
careless
fellow
he
is
.
He
never
seems
to
think
of
that
sort
of
thing
.
'
'
Oh
,
well
,
I
suppose
you
did
n't
know
.
'
'
Know
what
,
father
?
'
'
How
much
I
wanted
to
see
you
.
'
'
Why
,
no
,
of
course
I
did
n't
,
'
said
Roland
in
an
altered
tone
,
and
with
a
look
of
new
anxiety
in
his
face
.
'
What
is
it
,
father
?
I
thought
you
were
better
to-day
.
'
'
I
shall
never
be
better
,
lad
.
Doctor
Gibson
told
me
so
,
and
I
know
he
's
right
.
You
and
Dick
will
soon
be
masters
here
.
But
do
n't
worry
,
Rowley
,
'
he
added
,
catching
both
his
son
's
arms
;
'
it
was
bound
to
come
some
day
.
'
For
a
moment
the
young
man
had
hardly
seemed
to
realise
what
the
words
meant
;
but
now
a
long
,
anxious
,
eager
look
at
his
father
's
face
made
the
truth
clear
to
him
.
An
intense
anguish
came
into
his
face
,
and
throwing
his
arms
round
the
other
's
neck
,
he
fell
on
his
knees
in
a
burst
of
passionate
tears
.
'
Oh
,
father
,
father
,
no
,
no
—
not
yet
—
do
n't
say
that
—
I
ca
n't
do
without
you
.
Oh
,
why
have
I
left
you
since
you
have
been
ill
?
'
The
old
man
caressed
him
silently
.
There
was
a
sort
of
pleasure
in
feeling
oneself
regretted
with
this
passion
of
sorrow
and
longing
.
After
a
while
.
'
Rowley
,
'
said
he
,
as
the
sobs
grew
less
frequent
and
less
violent
,
'
I
'm
going
to
ask
you
to
do
something
for
me
.
'
'
Anything
you
like
,
father
—
the
harder
the
better
.
'
'
It
ought
not
to
be
very
hard
to
you
,
my
son
.
Promise
me
that
you
will
always
keep
good
friends
with
Dick
.
'
'
Yes
—
yes
—
I
will
,
indeed
.
'
But
little
more
was
said
.
Roland
seemed
unable
to
utter
anything
save
incoherent
protestations
of
love
and
sorrow
.
At
last
,
warned
by
the
weariness
that
was
creeping
into
his
father
's
face
,
he
bade
him
a
very
tender
and
lingering
good-night
.
'
Have
me
called
at
once
if
you
are
worse
—
or
if
I
can
do
anything
,
'
were
his
last
words
as
he
left
the
room
.
The
watchful
woman
's
face
was
by
the
bed
again
in
an
instant
.
'
I
want
—
'
the
old
man
began
.
'
You
want
your
beef
tea
,
Richard
,
and
here
it
is
.
'
As
he
took
it
he
asked
,
—
'
Is
it
too
late
to
send
for
Gates
?
'
'
Oh
,
no
;
and
it
's
such
a
little
way
for
him
to
come
.
'
Mr
Gates
was
a
member
of
a
firm
of
Stockport
solicitors
,
and
his
country
house
was
but
a
stone's-throw
from
Thornsett
Edge
.
It
was
not
long
before
he
in
his
turn
occupied
that
chair
by
the
bed
.
He
bore
with
him
an
atmosphere
of
jollity
which
even
the
hush
of
that
sick-room
was
powerless
to
dispel
.
He
was
not
unsympathetic
either
,
by
any
means
,
but
he
seemed
made
up
of
equal
parts
of
kindheartedness
and
high
spirits
,
and
looked
much
more
like
an
ideal
country
squire
than
like
the
ordinary
legal
adviser
.
As
a
matter
of
fact
,
he
was
more
at
home
on
the
moor
side
or
in
the
stubble
than
among
dusty
documents
and
leather-bound
Acts
of
Parliament
.
It
was
his
boast
that
he
only
had
eight
clients
,
and
that
he
lived
on
them
,
and
,
judging
by
his
appearance
,
they
furnished
uncommonly
good
living
.
He
had
a
genial
,
hearty
way
with
him
which
made
him
a
favourite
with
every
man
,
woman
and
child
he
came
across
,
and
he
knew
quite
enough
law
to
fully
justify
the
confidence
of
the
eight
above
mentioned
.
'
What
,
Mr
Ferrier
,
still
in
bed
!
Why
,
we
thought
old
Gibson
would
have
had
you
on
your
legs
again
in
no
time
.
I
quite
expected
to
see
you
driving
over
to
the
Wirksvale
wakes
to-morrow
.
'
'
I
shall
never
go
behind
any
but
the
black
horses
again
,
Gates
.
It
's
no
use
.
I
'm
settled
,
and
I
want
you
to
alter
my
will
.
'
'
I
'll
alter
your
will
with
pleasure
,
if
you
like
.
Though
I
must
say
it
's
so
much
more
sensible
than
most
people
's
wills
that
I
wonder
you
want
to
alter
it
;
but
you
must
n't
talk
of
black
horses
and
that
sort
of
thing
for
another
ten
years
.
Do
n't
lose
heart
;
you
'll
live
to
alter
your
will
a
score
of
times
yet
.
'
In
an
eager
,
tremulous
voice
Ferrier
begged
the
other
to
believe
that
his
fate
was
sealed
,
and
that
whatever
was
done
must
be
done
quickly
.
Then
he
proceeded
to
explain
the
changes
he
wished
to
have
made
in
the
will
.
He
told
the
lawyer
,
without
any
of
that
reserve
which
ordinarily
characterised
him
,
all
his
fears
about
his
sons
,
and
then
unfolded
the
scheme
by
which
he
thought
to
bind
the
two
together
.
He
wished
their
worldly
interests
to
be
so
strongly
bound
up
in
their
relations
to
each
other
that
a
quarrel
à
outrance
would
mean
ruin
to
both
of
them
;
and
to
this
end
he
proposed
to
leave
the
mill
to
them
jointly
,
on
condition
that
they
worked
it
together
,
and
both
took
an
active
part
in
the
management
of
it
.
Should
they
dissolve
partnership
before
twenty-one
years
,
or
should
either
retire
with
consent
of
the
other
,
the
personal
property
was
not
to
be
touched
by
either
,
and
at
end
of
ten
years
—
if
they
were
both
alive
and
still
separated
—
the
whole
was
to
go
to
the
Manchester
Infirmary
.
Mr
Gates
noted
this
extraordinary
scheme
down
on
the
back
of
an
old
letter
,
and
when
Mr
Ferrier
had
ended
,
read
his
notes
through
and
shook
his
head
.
'
Far
better
leave
it
alone
,
Mr
Ferrier
;
they
seem
the
best
of
friends
,
and
legacies
like
this
never
help
matters
much
,
anyhow
.
'
'
I
ca
n't
leave
it
alone
,
Gates
.
I
've
very
little
time
left
.
The
will
is
in
that
despatch-box
,
and
there
are
pen
and
ink
somewhere
about
.
'
'
Do
be
advised
,
'
began
Gates
,
his
jolly
face
considerably
graver
than
usual
.
'
I
tell
you
I
must
have
it
done
,
and
done
at
once
.
I
'm
deadly
tired
,
and
I
want
it
over
.
'
Mr
Gates
shrugged
his
shoulders
,
got
out
the
will
,
and
settled
himself
at
the
round
table
,
on
whose
crimson
velvet-pile
cloth
stood
a
papier-maché
inkstand
,
a
recent
purchase
of
Miss
Letitia
's
.
He
sat
there
biting
his
pen
,
and
making
aimless
little
scribbles
on
a
sheet
of
blank
paper
.
After
some
minutes
he
leaned
forward
,
and
for
a
little
time
no
sound
was
heard
but
the
squeak
of
his
pen
.
At
last
he
flung
down
the
quill
and
rose
.
'
It
is
the
only
way
it
can
be
done
,
sir
,
'
he
said
,
and
read
it
out
.
It
carried
out
Ferrier
's
plans
,
but
placed
the
personal
pro
perty
in
the
hands
of
trustees
,
who
were
to
pay
to
Roland
and
Richard
the
interest
thereof
so
long
as
they
worked
the
mill
together
.
If
at
the
end
of
twenty-one
years
there
had
been
no
dissolution
between
them
,
the
money
was
to
pass
unconditionally
to
them
,
in
equal
shares
,
or
to
the
survivor
of
them
,
or
to
their
heirs
if
they
were
both
dead
.
If
they
quarrelled
,
the
interest
was
to
be
allowed
to
accumulate
for
ten
years
,
and
then
,
if
the
brothers
were
still
not
on
friendly
terms
,
it
should
go
,
with
the
capital
,
to
the
Infirmary
.
'
That
's
right
,
'
said
old
Richard
,
in
a
voice
so
changed
as
to
convince
the
solicitor
that
he
was
right
in
saying
he
had
not
much
more
time
to
spend
.
The
codicil
was
signed
,
duly
attested
,
and
attached
to
the
will
,
and
Ferrier
lay
back
exhausted
,
but
with
a
light
of
new
contentment
in
his
eyes
.
'
I
'm
right
down
tired
out
,
'
he
said
;
'
I
shall
sleep
now
.
'
And
sleep
he
did
till
the
cold
hour
of
the
dawn
,
when
there
came
a
brief
waking
interval
,
before
the
longest
,
soundest
sleep
of
all
.
He
opened
his
eyes
then
.
'
It
's
nearly
over
,
'
he
said
;
'
my
boys
—
my
boys
!
'
He
called
for
them
both
,
but
it
was
Dick
on
whose
broad
breast
the
dying
head
rested
.
It
was
Dick
who
caught
the
last
loving
,
whispered
words
,
felt
the
last
faint
hand
pressure
,
soothed
the
last
pang
,
caught
the
last
look
.
For
when
Aunt
Letitia
hurried
to
their
rooms
,
it
was
Dick
who
opened
his
door
before
she
reached
it
,
and
,
fully
dressed
,
sprang
to
his
father
's
bedside
.
Roland
was
in
the
sound
sleep
that
often
follows
violent
emotion
,
and
it
was
hard
to
rouse
him
.
He
came
in
softly
just
as
his
brother
laid
gently
down
on
the
pillow
the
worn
old
face
,
at
rest
at
last
,
and
closed
the
kindly
eyes
that
would
never
meet
Roland
's
any
more
.
Never
any
more
!
A
NARROW
ESCAPE
.
THE
curtain
had
fallen
on
the
last
scene
of
the
most
popular
play
in
London
.
The
appreciative
criticism
of
the
pit
and
the
tearful
sympathy
of
the
upper
boxes
were
alike
merging
in
one
common
thought
,
that
of
'
something
nice
for
supper
.
'
The
gallery
was
already
empty
.
Its
occupants
were
thirstier
and
more
prompt
of
action
than
the
loungers
in
the
stalls
and
boxes
.
Ladies
,
a
little
flushed
by
the
exertion
of
fighting
their
way
through
the
ranks
of
their
peers
,
were
silently
disputing
for
precedence
in
front
of
the
looking-glasses
in
the
cloak-rooms
,
while
their
cavaliers
,
already
invested
with
overcoat
and
wrapper
,
were
pacing
the
carpeted
corridor
outside
with
a
very
poor
show
of
patience
.
The
most
impatient
of
them
all
was
a
stout
,
rubicund
old
gentleman
in
a
dark
coat
,
who
trotted
fretfully
up
and
down
,
and
now
and
then
even
ventured
to
peep
in
through
the
door
at
the
chaos
of
silks
and
laces
,
raised
shawls
,
and
suspended
bonnets
,
in
some
component
part
of
which
he
evidently
had
an
interest
.
His
very
manifest
objection
to
being
kept
waiting
made
his
fellow-sufferers
glance
at
him
with
some
amusement
.
A
young
man
who
had
been
going
leisurely
towards
the
outer
door
actually
stopped
and
leaned
against
the
wall
while
he
rolled
himself
a
cigarette
,
and
from
time
to
time
glanced
with
a
certain
interest
at
him
.
He
looked
very
handsome
leaning
there
;
his
light
overcoat
was
open
,
and
showed
the
gleam
of
some
rather
good
diamonds
in
his
shirt
front
.
His
pose
was
graceful
—
his
face
had
less
of
boredom
in
it
than
is
usually
worn
by
young
men
who
go
to
theatres
alone
.
This
,
with
his
large
dark
eyes
,
Greek
nose
,
and
long
drooping
blonde
moustache
,
gave
him
a
