M. Y. Halidom

A week had passed since our last chapter. Our antiquary, finding himself once more alone, had brought out his writing materials, determined no longer to put off his much-delayed letter to his friend, when a smart tap at the door, and immediately afterwards the entry of our host's pretty daughter, caused him to look up. She appeared more radiant than ever, and held up a bulky epistle with a foreign post mark. Full well she knew the handwriting. It was addressed to Mr. Oldstone, as usual, so she placed it in his hands.

"At last!" exclaimed the antiquary. "Now we shall see for ourselves. Sit down, my girl, sit down."

The invitation had been hardly given when the daughter of our host had already seated herself, and leaning her elbow on the table and her head in her hand, looked all attention.

Oldstone broke the seal, put on his spectacles, and thus began:—

Letter from Mr. Vandyke McGuilp to Mr. Oldstone.

"Rome, Oct. —, 17—.

"My Esteemed Friend,

"I offer you my most humble apologies for my delay in answering your interesting and most welcome letter, which, in fact, I have only just received. You will see by what follows that there were some extenuating circumstances, which may go far towards exculpating my apparent neglect. Your letter arrived at the 'CafÉ Greco,' where I usually have my letters directed, the day after my departure from Rome. They could not forward it, not knowing my whereabouts, so I did not get it until after my return.

"I must now go back some months to explain to you how, from over anxiety about finishing a picture, I had put off my trip for the summer so late as to be about the last man left in Rome; for all those who can abandon the Eternal City before the great heat comes on. At the time I speak of I actually believe there were more statues in Rome than living men. The models even had all returned to their respective villages, and the steps of the Spanish Staircase in the Piazza di Spagna were deserted. You may remember, sir, how even in your day they congregated in groups on this broad and elegant flight of steps, waiting for custom, lighting up the scene with their bright costumes. Well, the heat grew at length unbearable, till, what with over-work and the climate, I found myself prostrate with Roman fever. I was necessarily confined to my bed, and it was with difficulty that I could find a doctor. At last they sent me a Capuchin friar, who professed to have some knowledge of medical science—very limited, I should imagine, though perhaps enough for my purpose. He prescribed me medicine, and sent to attend upon me the cobbler's wife, who lives on the ground floor, and who makes my bed and sweeps out my room for me. The poor old woman has a sick husband, and looks far from healthy herself. She is yellow, almost toothless, with a strong beard, very far from clean—and oh! her breath! There, I will say no more. The poor old thing did her best, no doubt, and I don't want to be ungrateful. I couldn't help wishing, I remember, that instead of being laid up here I could have been laid up in England—somewhere in the country—say at the 'Headless Lady,' and had the pretty Helen to wait upon me. It would be worth while getting ill then."

"Stay," broke in Helen; "does he say that? Let me see. You are not joking with me, sir?"

"No, my dear," answered Oldstone, "I am not joking. You may see for yourself; but I don't know if I ought to read you all this nonsense. Won't it content you just to know that he is alive and well?"

Without heeding her friend and counsellor, Helen rubbed her hands together with glee, and laughed, saying, "Oh! I do wish he would come and be ill in our house—oh! no, I don't mean that, do I? I mean that he would come and live here altogether, without being ill, and that I could be with him always, all day long, and never leave him."

"Yes, my dear," replied Oldstone; "I know what you mean. You would like—there, never mind. The thing can't be, so what is the use of thinking about him?"

"Why not, if it makes me happy?" was the rejoinder.

"There, there, I can never argue with a woman," muttered Oldstone. "I've a good mind not to read you any more of his nonsense."

"Mr. Oldstone," cried Helen, "you know you couldn't be so cruel."

"Well, my dear," asked her friend, "what more do you want to know? I can't wade knee-deep through all this. There isn't time. Your mother will be calling you soon."

"Oh, yes, sir, please. Just a little more before mother calls. Then I'll go at once," pleaded Helen, coaxingly.

The antiquary was as wax in her hands. "Well, then, he goes on to say:"

"As soon as I was fairly recovered, I thought I would delay my holiday no longer, and accordingly took the diligence, only too glad to leave the infected city behind me, and to breathe a little fresh mountain air. What a complete change of climate I experienced high up in these mountain regions! And, oh! I cannot describe to you the extreme beauty and wildness of the scenery; the quaintness of some of these mountain villages, and the primitive state of their inhabitants! I had not been long in one of these out-of-the-way places when one morning I was tramping along in search of the picturesque, laden with my painting materials, when from behind some rocky crags some dozen brigands surrounded me.

"'Faccia in terra' (face on the ground), cried the brigand chief and the rest of the band in chorus, as they levelled their carbines at me.

"I was alone and unarmed, so had no choice but to do as I was commanded, so I prostrated myself, face to the ground. Several brigands came forward to search me, robbed me of my gold watch and all my loose cash. Then they opened my pocket-book, where, besides finding paper money, they came upon my passport. This they handed to their chief.

"'So,' said he, after perusing it; 'so it seems you are an Englishman. Good. The English are rich. You must put up with our company until your friends can disburse the sum of ten thousand pounds sterling.'

"In vain I tried to explain to him that I was only a poor artist, who earned his living by the sweat of his brow. I saw I was not believed.

"'But you have rich friends,' he persisted. 'I know it by your face; so you don't fool me.'

"He then made a sign for me to follow them, so I had to tramp higher and higher up into the mountains, till I was ready to drop, while these well trained mountaineers leapt from crag to crag with the agility of a chamois, till they reached a cave, where they halted."

"There, Helen, run along," said Mr. Oldstone, as he had got thus far. "There's your mother calling you."

Off rushed Helen to her mother, who was waiting for her at the door of the kitchen.

"Come, girl," cried Dame Hearty, "I can't think what you find to talk about with Mr. Oldstone every day. You are quite losing your head. Now, set to work, for we are terribly behind-hand."

The door once closed upon Helen, our antiquary read his friend's letter slowly through to the end. It gave an elaborate account of our artist's experience with the brigands, which we need not relate. Stay!—here was something at the end of the letter, marked "Private," that promised to be interesting. What could it be?

"(Private.)—I must now touch upon a subject which causes me the greatest anxiety. A report has reached me through an artist friend, who was staying on a visit to Lord Landborough, who, you will remember, bought my picture entitled 'The Landlord's Daughter.' Amongst other visitors at his country seat who were there at the time was one Lord Scampford, a young sprig of nobility, rich, accomplished, but of infamous character; a gamester, and a profligate of the first water, who had become so enamoured of my portrait of Helen, then hanging on the walls of the Academy, that in his cups he swore, by Gumdragon, that he would search the world over to find out the original, and that, willy-nilly, he would make her his paramour. Likewise, he would shoot any man dead who dared to stand in his way. Turning to my friend, he asked him if he knew the painter of the work: and upon his answering in the affirmative, he next asked him if he knew the model who had sat for the picture. This my friend was unable to tell him, as he was ignorant himself who it was. He then asked for my address, and being informed I lived in Rome, he at once set out for Italy, and, in fact, arrived here, and called upon me at my studio, but was denied admittance, as I was then laid up with the fever. After I had recovered, I heard that he had been the round of all the studios, and that of every artist he had been asking if, perchance, they could tell him where I had got my model from. Not one of them knew. Shortly after his arrival I heard that he had received a letter which necessitated his immediate return to England.

"This letter, it seems, was from his valet, a big powerful man, who generally accompanied him as his bully, and who aids him in his nefarious schemes. This man he had left behind him in England, with orders to scour the country for miles round about London, and to inform himself at every wayside inn, if the original of the picture on the Academy walls lived there. For a long time his search was fruitless. At last chance came to his aid. On one of his visits to the Royal Academy, just to refresh his memory of the features in the picture, he overheard a broadbacked old farmer, just up from the country, say to his wife,

"'Why, dash my wig, Sally, if here ain't the face of dear little Helen Hearty, daughter of my old friend, Jack Hearty, as keeps the 'Headless Lady,' at the cross-roads.'

"Upon hearing this, the valet stepped forward. 'Do I understand you to say that you know the original of this portrait?' he asked.

"'Know her!' exclaimed the farmer, 'Ay, marry do I. Why she is my God-daughter? I've danced her on my knee since she were a kid, bless her heart! And now I remember, I did hear as how one o' them paintin' fellers—limners, they call 'em, was a puttin' up at the 'Headless Lady,' and a paintin' 'er likeness. Well, now, I never!—eh Sally?'

"'Dear me!' remarked the valet, 'How very strange! Really, this is most interesting. Tell me, good man, what part of the country is this you speak of?'

"'What! the hostel of the 'Headless Lady'? Why, at the cross-roads-parish of Littleboro', near Muddleton, on Slush Slopshire.'

"'Ah, in that part, I see. Fine country they tell me, about there. Bracing air, good shooting—eh?' inquired the valet, as he opened his pocket-book and jotted down all the farmer told him.

"'Yes, sir, good air, good shooting, and as fine a bit of country, though I ses it, as shouldn't, seeing as how its my birthplace.'

"Here, the valet took out his watch, and exclaimed, 'God bless my soul! How time flies! Why, it's just upon one o'clock, and I had an appointment at twelve, on urgent business. Good-day, my friend. Good-day, Ma'am,' addressing himself to the farmer's wife, and off he goes.

"'A pleasant, affable gentleman,' remarked the countryman to the wife of his bosom.

"'Ah, just ain't un,' acquiesced his spouse.

"That very day the valet penned a note to his lord and master, who returned to England in a great hurry at the news. You may imagine, my friend, what anxiety I feel, knowing that villain to be at large, and ready at any time to swoop down like a vulture into your peaceful dovecot and carry on his work of destruction, whilst I, being so far away, am unable to strike a blow in her defence. Though, God knows, I would willingly lay down my life, rather than that dear child should come to any harm. I write at once, having only just heard the news. God grant I may be in time for my warning to be of some avail. For all I know, the villain may be there before this letter arrives. I tremble at the thought. He is sure to travel in his own private coach, accompanied by his bully, and, doubtless, both of them will be armed to the teeth. You had better warn Jack Hearty at once, in order that he may put his daughter out of harm's way, until he has taken his departure. His lordship will stick at nothing—even at drugging her, and carrying her off insensible, and being armed, it will be dangerous work to oppose him. I would advise Jack Hearty, as soon as he can find an opportunity to extract the bullets from his horse pistols, for depend upon it he means mischief. This is all the advice I can give him. Do whatever you can to frustrate the plot of this villian, and write me the result. No time for more. With kind remembrances to all your friends, as well as to our worthy host and family,

"Your anxious friend,
"Vandyke McGuilp."

"Dear! dear! dear!" muttered Oldstone to himself. "This is terrible news indeed. I must seek Jack Hearty at once, and inform him." Then, thrusting the letter into his pocket, and with a troubled expression on his face, he left the room, and beckoning to the landlord, whom he found outside, he took him by the arm and walked with him some considerable distance down one of the cross-roads, and read to him the latter part of our artist's letter. The landlord looked grave and stern.

"Humph," he grunted at length, "and this is all through me allowin' my daughter's portrait to be exhibited at the Royal Academy. If I had only known!"

"Look here, Jack," said Oldstone. "This is a thing that no one could foresee. Let us now think of the remedy."

"What remedy?" asked Jack, gloomily. "Can I refuse to take a traveller in—a nobleman, too, with a handle to his name?"

"It is a desperate case, and we must be on the alert," observed Oldstone. "I would suggest that we take Dr. Bleedem into our confidence."

"Why?"

"Perhaps he may be able to administer to them both a sleeping draught on going to bed, and whilst they are both sound asleep, you can enter their rooms and extract the bullets from their pistols, so that if perchance they should attempt to use them against us, we shall have nothing to fear on that score."

"The very thing!" exclaimed our host. "Let us seek the doctor at once."

This was done. At first the man of medicine hummed and hawed, put on a look of importance, and talked of his reputation, etc., but at length allowed himself to be over-ruled, seeing the extreme urgency of the case, and consented to give the landlord a little harmless sleeping dose, which he could mix with their wine or whatever they called for.

Dr. Bleedem now went inside, presumably to concoct the charm by which occult power the evil designs of their enemies were to be frustrated, leaving our host and the antiquary discoursing together outside in low tones. As these two individuals were gazing towards the horizon, a small cloud of dust was presently discernible.

"Seems to be coming this way," said our host, after a pause. "Wonder if——"

"Ah, just so," broke in Oldstone. "Shouldn't wonder if it were our expected guest. He won't make any unnecessary delay, I warrant."

"Sure enough it's a carriage and pair with a liveried coachman and footman," observed the landlord. "How they tear along! Oh, it's his lordship, without doubt. I must go and warn my daughter."

Our host was somewhat tardy in arriving at this decision, for a stately carriage emblazoned with an escutcheon with innumerable quarterings, and surmounted by a coronet, had now driven up to the door of the inn, and both Dame Hearty and Helen were on the doorstep to welcome the new arrivals.

A gorgeous footman descended to open the carriage door, and out stepped a young man of middle height, slim and somewhat graceful of figure, dressed in the very height of fashion. Behind him stepped a powerfully-built man, respectably dressed in black, with a plebeian and repulsive countenance.

Our landlord came forward and saluted both guests gravely.

"We want two bedrooms and a sitting-room, landlord, and should like to dine in an hour," said Lord Scampford; for it was none other. Then putting up his spy-glass, he gazed at Helen from head to foot in an impertinent manner, and the two men exchanged a look of intelligence. The coachman and footman likewise followed their lord's gaze, and smiled approvingly.

Our antiquary was making his observations in the background whilst Jack Hearty was busying himself with the luggage. As our host passed his daughter in the passage he found time to say, sotto voce, "Helen, my girl, shut yourself up in your room till I call you. I want to speak to you."

Now it was not often that her father spoke to her in so serious a tone, and these words, coupled with the impression she had already formed of Lord Scampford and his companion, which was not a favourable one, caused her to tremble and turn pale. She knew there was much in the world that she could not understand, and it seemed to be considered wise not to make enquiries. She asked no question therefore, but shut herself up within her room as desired. No sooner was the landlord able to break away from his new customers, than he ascended to his daughter's chamber and knocked at the door. Helen unlocked it, and her father entered.

"My daughter," he said, "I wish you to keep as much to yourself as possible during the stay of these gentlemen below. I have my reasons. I know more than you do, so do not ask why. Enough that it is my wish."

In the good old times, parents' commands were not disputed, but humbly and reverently obeyed. So Helen, with downcast eyes and hands crossed upon her breast, answered respectfully, "It is well, sir."

"If, by any chance, they should cross your path while you are engaged in your household duties," continued her father, "and should address you, let your answers be short, though civil. Remain not long in their presence, but speedily withdraw. Moreover, if they should be sitting over their wine and should invite you to drink, to pledge them in a toast, drink not. No, not even a sip to please them. My daughter, there is danger ahead, and I warn you beforehand. You are young and unversed in the wickedness of the world, but obey me to the letter and you are safe. Heed not their advances or their flattery, but shun them as a pest."

Having thus delivered himself, our worthy host turned on his heel and left the chamber.

"I understand nothing, sir, but I obey," answered Helen, dutifully.

That evening Dame Hearty herself served his lordship and the man whom he was pleased to represent as his friend. Many were the questions that were put to our hostess about her daughter, and many the subterfuges she had to resort to in order to prevent Helen from putting in an appearance. Whilst thus engaged in conversation with the landlady, Jack Hearty found it no difficult task to enter the sleeping room of his guests and to extract all the bullets from their pistols, without having recourse to Dr. Bleedem's potent charm. The evening passed over quietly, and there was no appearance of Helen.

A week now passed by, and neither Lord Scampford nor his man seemed to be able to make any headway. "Tell you what it is, Tuppings," said his lordship one day to his bully, deeming himself unheard, although every word fell distinctly on the ears of our host, "I am getting tired of these eternal subterfuges. It's enough to kill a man outright with ennui, to vegetate day after day in this wilderness; yet leave the place without her I will not."

"You may depend upon it, my lord," said the man in black, "that they knew of our coming beforehand, and have been forewarned."

"I wish I knew who it was," rejoined his lordship; "I'ld be even with him. The only person interested in the matter would be Lord Dodgemore, who naturally would do all in his power to make me lose my wager. I laid him a thousand pounds that I would make her my mistress within a fortnight, and I don't intend to become the laughing-stock of my friends on my return."

"Then your lordship has not a moment to lose. Half the time has already slipped by, and we are no nearer than on the evening of our arrival," murmured the bully.

"That we are being hoaxed is as plain as a pike-staff," observed his lordship.

"On our first evening the girl was engaged serving the members of the club. The next day she was indisposed and confined to her room. After that she was on a visit to her aunt, who is ill, and what with one excuse and then another—oh! it's sickening. I came across the little jade unexpectedly the other day, and tried to detain her with a little pleasant chat. You should have seen the dignified air she put on, as with a 'by your leave, my lord, I am overpressed for time,' she curtesyed and passed by. What has come to these simple seeming rustics of late I am at a loss to imagine."

"If your lordship should deign to follow my advice——"

"Well."

"I would suggest that we should take the bull by the horns and make short work of it."

"How?"

"Pick the lock of her bedroom door. Gag her and carry her out of bed downstairs, wrap a warm cloak around her, and lift her into the carriage, which must be waiting for us only a few paces off. Then, head for the nearest township, and so on, to London. In case of opposition on the way, we have our pistols. But hush! I thought I heard footsteps."

"Tut! the walls are thick enough in this antique hostelry," said his lordship. "Never fear."

They little knew that there was a sliding panel high up over the bedstead his lordship occupied, which was covered by a bad picture of His Majesty George II. on horseback, and which could be reached by a secret staircase within the thickness of the wall.

"So that is their little game, is it?" muttered our host to himself, who had been eavesdropping. "All right, my men, all right."