Thomas Bewick, the wood engraver. He became a pupil of Haydn, in whose diary his name frequently occurs. "Mr. Landseer seems to have had a pious pleasure in editing this biography and these letters of his old friend. We should be wanting in our duty were we not to thank him for furnishing us with such interesting memorials of a man who did good work in his generation, but about whom little is known."-Times. The circumstance altogether is a striking illustration of the persistency with which a matter once put forth as history lives and grows. THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE MAY, 1873. CLYTIE. A NOVEL OF MODERN LIFE. BY JOSEPH HATTON. CHAPTER VIII. AN ALLIANCE AGAINST FATE. Row do you do, Mr. Waller?" said Tom, putting out his hand in a tired and languid way. "I am sorry you have been waiting so long." "Don't mention it," said the old man. not expect me, so you cannot help my having to wait, sir." "Be seated, Mr. Waller," said Tom. But Mr. Waller went to the door and shut it. "Would you mind my closing the window?" "You did "No, certainly not," said Tom, almost too tired to feel or to express any surprise at the singular conduct and manner of his visitor. "I have something important to say to you, Mr. Mayfield-something that I don't wish anybody else to hear." Tom intimated acquiescence by laying down his gown, taking a seat, and preparing to listen. "First let us have a light, Mr. Waller-eh?" "As you please, sir; it is getting dark." Tom rang the bell, and a servant brought in his lamp ready trimmed and lighted. The first gleam of it fell upon Clytie. The old man pointed to the bust with a trembling finger. VOL. X., N.S. 1873. LL "I have been looking at that," he said. "It is very like my girllike my cruel girl." The old man's voice trembled with emotion. "It is of her that you come to speak to me?" said Tom, some of his usual earnestness and energy returning. "Yes. You have seen her to-day?" "I have." "You told her you loved her?" "I did." "Do you think that was quite right? Do you not think, sir, it would have been more honourable first to have spoken to her grandfather?" "It would have been the most usual way; the most formal and proper perhaps; but love does not always consider the proprieties. I should have come to you, sir, had I been secure of Clytie's love; yes, had I been even assured of her respect," said Tom, rising from his chair and looking straight into the old man's face. "Clytie-who is Clytie?" asked Luke Waller, fearing that some new discovery was about to break in upon him. "That is Clytie," said Tom, pointing to the statuette. "I thought it like Miss Waller, and the habit of thinking of her has grown into my calling her Clytie." "Yes," said the old man. "Yes; Clytie was a goddess. It is like it is like. And you love my child?" "With all my heart and soul!" replied Tom fervently. "And you would marry her?" "To-morrow," said Tom, inspired by the searching gaze of the old man. 66 Give me your hand," said Mr. Waller. "You are my son. You shall be my child's husband." "My dear sir!" exclaimed Tom, seizing the old man's hand, his heart beating, his face aglow with the shock of a sudden happiness. "On one condition," said the old man. "On any condition," replied Tom. "You will not drive me away from her; you will not separate us; you will try and live here in Dunelm as long as I am with you. I have not long to stay, sir-not long-and I have not very much of real happiness in this world,-not much-not much.” "Take me, sir, as your son, and I will be true to you,” said Tom, touched by the sorrowful manner of his visitor. "But we must save her first," exclaimed the old man, as if he were just awaking from a dream, "we must save her; you will help me. You are to be my son. You will be her lawful wedded and honourable husband. I always believed in you, always said you were a man of honour and a gentleman." "You have always said truly, then," said Tom, with manly pride. "What is to be done?" "Nothing of that sort at present," replied Luke, noticing the defiant, half-pugilistic attitude into which Tom had flung himself when he asked what there was to do. "No, sit down, and I will tell you," said the old man, "I will tell you calmly, and then we can consult. I would not tell to any other living soul what I am about to tell you. But it is for her good, for her ultimate happiness. You give me your word of honour that you will never repeat what I am about to confide to your secret heart." "You may trust me," said Tom. "I will; I do," said the old man. "You know Mr. Phil Ransford?" "I do." "Last Monday night, when I was dining with the Dean, he scaled the Hermitage wall from the river and ". "On Monday night, at about eight?” "Yes; did you know of it?" "No; but he had an appointment to meet me here at that time, and he never came." "He met her, he met my dear child; made signals to her on the other side of the river, and then came over; and she saw him and talked to him in the summer-house. I have a trusty servant; she fetched me from the Dean's. I encountered the ruffian on the spot.” Tom clenched his fist and looked at his favourite figure. "It is only to-day that I had really forgiven her. She went out to walk this morning. A strange instinct induced me to follow her. I saw her fling something into the river by the bridge. I succeeded in recovering it. When she came home I showed it to her, and asked for an explanation. It was a case of jewels, valuable jewels, given to her by Ransford.” "Yes, and she flung them into the river," said Tom, as if he thought that was quite enough to atone for the sin of receiving them. "She confessed all," said the old man; "confessed that Ransford had written letters to her; that he had met her once by appointment in the Banks.” "On the other side of the river, a fortnight ago, in the afternoon, in the Cathedral meadows," said Tom. "Yes; how do you know?" asked Luke Waller, half suspiciously. "I saw her from the Observatory." "You were at the Observatory this morning?" "Yes." "You found my girl gathering flowers?" "Yes." "You proposed to her, as a gentleman would, and with the intention of asking my consent to your marriage?" "I did." "What did she say?" "She looked more than she said," replied Tom; "she does not care for me; it would be cowardly for me to press myself upon her even with your aid, my dear sir; even at your wish." "Well, well," said the old man, you would save her, you would do anything in the world to contribute to her happiness." "Try me, prove me," said Tom. "This man Ransford, he has infatuated her; he has told her of the glories of London life, he has fired her with the ambition of her mother, he has set her against Dunelm, he has dared to propose that he should take her to London." "Has she told you this?" "Yes, yes; on her knees; I made her tell me all. She dared to say she had not done wrong. She dared to tell me that she had made up for her folly by flinging those damning things into the river. that Ransford had done nothing improper that she could see. Men would fall in love, and she could not help it; she thought Dunelm very dull; and last of all, she vowed I did not love her. Oh, Mr. Mayfield, if she could only read this poor broken heart of mine! Oh, my God, what shall I do if anything should happen to part us, to separate us in the way I fear?" The old man buried his face in his hands. case all ragged and damp upon the table. necklet and restored it to the case. He had flung the jewel "I fear you have been hard upon your granddaughter, Mr. Waller; she is but a girl, and all Dunelm is in love with her. I really do not think she has done anything so very outrageous. These jewels irritate you; let me keep them for you. We must ask Ransford for an explanation, not Miss Waller. Go home and comfort her. You have been hasty with her, because you love her; but that is not the way." Luke Waller got up and shuffled across the room for his hat. He was utterly broken down. He tottered as he walked, and looked appealingly to Tom for help, physical and moral. "I will walk with you as far as the Hermitage," said Tom; "you will be better soon; affairs are not half so bad as you think they are." |