THE same August sun which had gone down behind the waste of waters glimmered redly upon the broad face of the old clock over that ivycovered archway which leads into the gardens of Audley Court.
A fierce and crimson sunset. The mullioned windows and the twinkling lattices are all ablaze with the red glory; the fading light flickers upon the leaves of the limes in the long avenue, arid changes the still fishpond into a sheet of burnished copper; even into those dim recesses of briar and brushwood, amidst which the old well is hidden, the crimson brightness penetrates in fitful flashes, till the dank weeds and tile rusty iron wheel and broken woodwork seem as if they were flecked with blood.
The lowing of a cow in the quiet meadows, the splash of a trout in the fish pond, the last notes of a tired bird, the creaking of waggonwheels upon the distant road, every now and then breaking the evening silence, only made the stillness of the place seem more intense. It was almost oppressive, this twilight stillness. The very repose of the place grew painful from its intensity, and you felt as if a corpse must be lying somewhere within that grey and ivycovered pile of building- so deathlike was the tranquillity of all around
As the clock over the archway struck eight, a door at the back of the house was softly opened, and a girl came out into the gardens.
But even the presence of a human being scarcely broke the silence; for the girl crept slowly over the thick grass, and gliding into the avenue by the side of the fishpond, disappeared under the rich shelter of the limes.
She was not, perhaps, positively a pretty girl; but her appearance was of that order which is commonly called interesting. Interesting, it may be, because in the pale face and the light grey eyes, the small features and compressed lips, there was something which hinted at a power of repression and selfcontrol not common in a woman of nineteen or twenty. She might have been pretty, I think, but for the one fault in her small oval face. This fault was an absence of colour. Not one tinge of crimson flushed the waxen whiteness of her cheeks; not one shadow of brown redeemed the pale insipidity of her eyebrows and eyelashes; not one glimmer of gold or auburn relieved the dull flaxen of her hair. Even her dress was spoiled by this same deficiency; the pale lavender muslin faded into a sickly grey, and the ribbon knotted round her throat melted into the same neutral hue.
Her figure was slim and fragile, and in spite of her humble dress, she had something of the grace and carriage of a gentlewoman; but she was only a simple country girl, called Phoebe Marks, who had been nursemaid in Mr. Dawson's family, and whom Lady Audley had chosen for her maid after her marriage with Sir Michael
Of course this was a wonderful piece of good fortune for Phoebe, who found her wages trebled
and her work light in the wellordered household at the Court; and who was therefore quite as much the object of envy amongst her particular
friends as my lady herself in higher circles.
A man who was sitting on the broken wood work of the well started as the lady'smaid came out of the dim shade of the limes and stood before him amongst the weeds and brushwood.
I have said before that this was a neglected spot: it lay in the midst of a low shrubbery, hidden away from the rest of the gardens, and only visible from the garret windows at the back of the west wing. "Why, Phoebe," said the man, shutting a claspknife with which he had been stripping the bark from a blackthorn stake, " you came upon me so still and sudden, that I thought you was an evil spirit. I've come across through the fields, and come in here at the gate agen the moat, and I was taking a rest before I came up to the house to ask if you was come back."
" I can see the well from my bedroom window, Luke." Phoebe answered, pointing to an open lattice in one of the gables. " I saw you sitting here, and came down to have a chat; it's better talking out here than in the house where there's always somebody listening."
The man was a big, broadshouldered, stupid looking clodhopper of about twentythree years of age. His darkred hair grew low upon his forehead, and his bushy brows met over a pair of greenish grey eyes; his nose was large and well shaped, but the mouth was coarse in form and animal in expression. Rosycheeked, redhaired, and bull necked, he was not unlike one of the stout oxen grazing in the meadows round about the Court.
The girl seated herself lightly upon the woodwork at his side, and put one of her hands, which had grown white in her new and easy service, about his thick neck.
" Are you glad to see me, Luke ?" she asked
" Of course I m glad, lass," he answered, boorishly, opening his knife again, and scraping away at the hedge stake.
They were first cousins, and had been play fellows in child hood, and sweethearts in early youth .
"You don't seem much as if you were glad," said the girl; " you might look at me, Luke, and tell me if you think my journey has improved me."
" It ain't put any colour into your cheeks, my girl," he said, glancing up at her from under his lowering eyebrows; "you're every bit as white as you was when you went away."
" But they say travelling makes people genteel, Luke. I've been on the Continent with my lady, through all manner of curious places; and you know when I was a child, Squire Horton's daughters taught me to speak a little French, and I found it so nice to be able to talk to the people abroad."
" Genteel ! " cried Luke Marks, with a horse laugh; " who wants you to be genteel, I wonder ? Not me for one; when you're my wife you won't have over much time for gentility, my girl. French, too! Dang me, Phoebe, I suppose when we've saved money enough between us to buy a bit of a farm, you'll be parlyvooing to the cows ? "
She bit her lip as her lover spoke, and looked away. He went on cutting and chopping at a rude handle he was fashioning to the stake, whistling softly to himself all the while, and not once looking at his cousin.
For some time they were silent, but byand by she said, with her face still turned away from her companion,-
" What a fine thing it is for Miss Graham, that was, to travel with her maid and her courier, and her chariot and four, and a husband that thinks there isn't one spot upon all the earth that's good enough for her to set her foot upon !"
" Ay, it is a fine thing, Phoebe, to have lots of money," answered Luke, "and I hope you'll be warned by that, my lass' to save up your wages agen we get married."
"Why, what was she in Mr. Dawson's house only three months ago?" continued the girl, as if she had not heard her cousin's speech. " What was she but a servant like me ? Taking wages and working for them as hard, or harder than I did. You should have seen her shabby clothes,
Luke--worn and patched, and darned, and turned and twisted, yet always looking nice upon her, somehow. She gives me more as lady'smaid here than ever she got from Mr. Dawson then. Why, I've seen her come out of the parlour with a few sovereigns and a little silver in her hand, that master had just given her for her quarter's salary; and now look at her I "
" Never you mind her," said Luke; " take care of yourself, Phoebe; that's all you've got to do. What should you say to a publichouse for you and me, by andby, my girl? There's a deal of money to be made out of a pubic house."
The girl still sat with her face averted from her lover, her hands hanging listlessly in her lap, and her pale grey eyes fixed upon the last low streak of crimson dying out be hind the trunks of the trees.
" You should see the inside of the house, Luke," she said; "it's a tumbledown looking place enough outside; but you should see my lady's rooms,-all pictures and gilding, and great lookingglasses that stretch from the ceiling to the floor. Painted ceilings, too, that cost hundreds of pounds, the housekeeper told me, and all done for her."
" She's a lucky one," muttered Luke, with lazy indifference.
" You should have seen her while we were abroad, with a crowd of gentlemen always hanging about her; Sir Michael not jealous of them, only proud to see her so much admired. You should have heard her laugh and talk with them; throwing all their compliments and fine speeches back at them, as it were, as if they had been pelting her with roses. She set every body mad about her wherever she went. Her singing) her playing, her painting, her dancing, her beautiful smile, and sunshiny ringlets ! She was always the talk of a place, as long as we stayed in it."
" Is she at home tonight ? "
" No, she has gone out with Sir Michael to a dinner party, at the Beeches. They've seven or eight miles to drive, and they won't be back till after eleven."
" Then I'll tell you what, Phoebe, if the inside of the house is so mighty fine, I should like to have a look at it."
"You shall, then. Mrs. Barton, the housekeeper, knows you by sight, and she can't object to my showing you some of the best rooms."
It was almost dark when the cousins left the shrubbery and walked slowly to the house. The door by which they entered led into the servants' hall, on one side of which was the housekeeper's room. Phoebe Marks stopped for a moment to ask the housekeeper if she might take her cousin through some of the rooms, and having received permission to do so, lighted a candle at the lamp in the hall, and beckoned to Luke to follow her into the other part of the house.
The long, black oak corridors were dim in the ghostly twilight--the light carried by Phoebe looking only a poor speck of flame in the broad passages through which the girl led her cousin. Luke looked suspiciously over his shoulder now and then, half frightened of the creaking of his own hobnailed boots.
" It's a mortal dull place, Phoebe," he said, as they emerged from a passage into the principal hall, which was not yet lighted; " I've heard tell of a murder that was done here in old times."
" There are murders enough in these times, as to that, Luke," answered the girl, ascending the staircase, followed by the young man.
She led the way through a great drawingroom, rich in satin and ormolu, buhl and inlaid cabinets, bronzes, cameos, statuettes, and trinkets, that glistened in the dusky light; then through a morningroom hung with proof engravings of valuable pictures; through this into an antechamber, where she stopped, holding the light above her head.
The young man stared about him, openmouthed and openeyed.
"It's a rare fine place," he said, "and must have cost a power of money."
"Look at the pictures on the walls," said Phoebe, glancing at the panels of the octagonal chamber, which were hung with Claudes and Poussins, Wouvermans and Cuyps, "I've heard that those alone are worth a fortune. This is the entrance to my lady's apartments, Miss Graham that was.'' She lifted a heavy green cloth curtain which hung across a doorway, and led the astonished countryman into a fairylike boudoir, and thence to a dressingroom, in which the open doors of a wardrobe and a heap of dresses flung about a sofa showed that it still remained exactly as its occupant had left it.
" I've all these things to put away before my lady comes home, Luke; you might sit down here while I do it, I shan't be long."
Her cousin looked round in gawky embarrass meet, bewildered by the splendour of the room; and after some deliberation selected the most substantial of the chairs, on the extreme edge of which he carefully seated himself.
"I wish I could show you the jewels, Luke," said the girl; " but I can't, for she always keeps the keys herself; that's the case on the dressing. table there."
" What, that ? " cried Luke, staring at the massive walnutwood and brass inlaid casket.
"Why, that's big enough to hold every bit of clothes I've got I "
'`And it's as full as it can be of diamonds, rubies, pearls, and emeralds," answered Phoebe, busy as she spoke in folding the rustling silk dresses, and laying them one by one upon the shelves of the wardrobe. As she WAS shaking out the flounces of the last, a jingling sound caught her ear, and she put her hand into the pocket.
' I declare!" she exclaimed, "my lady has left her keys in her pocket for once in a way. I can show you the jewellery if you like, Luke."
"Well, I may &s well have a look at it, my girl," he said, rising from his chair, and holding the light while his cousin unlocked the casket. He uttered a cry of wonder when he saw the ornaments glittering on white satin cushions. He wanted to handle the delicate jewels; to pull them about, and find out their mercantile value. Perhaps a pang of longing and envy shot through his heart as he thought how he would have liked to have taken one of them.
" Why, one of those diamond things would set us up in life, Phoebe," he said, turning a bracelet over and over in his big red hands.
" Put it down, Luke ! Put it down directly ! " cried the girl, with a look of terror; " how can you speak about such things ? "
He laid the bracelet in its place with a reluctant sigh, and then continued his examination of the casket.
" What's this ? " he asked presently, pointing to a brass knob in the framework of the box.
He pushed it as he spoke, and a secret drawer, lined with purple velvet, flew out of the casket.
"Look ye, here I " cried Luke, pleased at his discovery.
Phoebe Marks threw down the dress she had been folding, and went over to the toilette table.
" Why, I never saw this before," she said, " I wonder what there is in it ? "
There was not much in it; neither gold nor gems; only a baby's little worsted shoe rolled up in a piece of paper, and a tiny lock of pale and silky yellow hair, evidently taken from a baby's head. Phoebe's grey eyes dilated as she examined the little packet.
" So this is what my lady hides in the secret drawer," she muttered.
"It's queer rubbish to keep in such a place," said Luke, carelessly.
The girl's thin lips curved into a curious smile.
" You will bear me witness where I found this," she said, putting the little parcel into her pocket.
"Why, Phoebe, you're never going to be such a fool as to take that," cried the young man.
" I'd rather have this than the diamond bracelet you
would have liked to take," she answered; " you shall have the