"My dear madam," he said, "I am sorry that her ladyship has carried off the little boy. If you will give me authority, I will drive on and bring him back to you. An old friend of yours has come down to this neighbourhood, and he wishes to see Harry. He has heard that you are ill, and desires to know from your own lips your wishes with regard to your boy."

"What do you mean, doctor?" asked the dying lady, looking up with an inquiring glance at the doctor's face. "The child is so young that I should not wish to part from him for some years to come."

"My dear lady," said Dr. Jessop, solemnly, "the lives of all of us are in G.o.d's hands. You are suffering from a serious complaint. It would be cruel in me not to warn you that you are in considerable danger."

"Do you mean to say I'm going to die, doctor--that I must part from my boy?" gasped out poor f.a.n.n.y, in a faint voice.

"I should wish you to be prepared, should it be G.o.d's will to call you away," answered the doctor, much moved. "If you will give authority to your devoted friend, Mr. Roger Kyffin, I am sure he will act the part of a parent to your boy. I expect him here this evening, and as he wishes to see Harry, I will drive over to Lady Tryon and request her ladyship to allow me to bring your boy back to you. Certainly in most cases a child's grandmother is a proper person to act as guardian, but though I attend Lady Tryon professionally when she is in the country, I am unable to express a satisfactory opinion as to her fitness for the task. I begged my friend Tom Wallis, the solicitor at Lynderton, to ride over here with Mr. Kyffin; so that should you wish to place your boy under the legal protection of your old friend, you may be able to do so."

"Surely his grandmother is a proper person to take charge of Harry; though I have no cause to regard her with affection," said f.a.n.n.y, in a faint voice, "yet I could with more confidence consign him to that kind and generous man, Mr. Kyffin; I will do therefore as he wishes, only requesting that the boy may be allowed to remain as much as possible during his childhood with his grandmother."

Poor f.a.n.n.y! a lingering feeling of pride prompted this resolution. Far better would it have been, in all human probability, for the boy, had she committed him entirely to her faithful friend's care, and not mentioned Lady Tryon. The doctor knew too well that his patient had not many hours to live. He hurried off to Aylestone Hall, the residence of Lady Tryon. The old lady expressed herself delighted with the child, and was very unwilling to part with him. Indeed, though she was told of her daughter-in-law's dangerous state, she positively refused to give him up, unless the doctor promised to bring him back again. Harry was accordingly placed in the doctor's carriage, which drove rapidly back to Mrs. Tryon's cottage.

"I can give you but little hopes," said the doctor to Roger Kyffin, whom, in company with Mr. Wallis, he met at the cottage gate.

Roger Kyffin sighed deeply. The little boy flew towards his mother.

She had scarcely strength to bend forward to meet him. The doctor held him while she pressed him to her bosom.

"May he come in?" asked the doctor.

"Yes," she whispered, "I should be glad to see him before I die; you were right, doctor, and kind to warn me."

Roger Kyffin entered the room, but his knees trembled, and he could scarcely command his voice. f.a.n.n.y thanked him for all his kindness; "continue it," she said, "to this poor child."

The doctor signed to Mr. Wallis to come forward. He had brought writing materials. f.a.n.n.y expressed her wish to place her child under Roger Kyffin's guardianship. She signed the paper. She evidently wished to say more, but her voice failed her. It was with difficulty she could gasp out the last words she had uttered. In vain the doctor administered a restorative. With her one arm flung round her boy, while Roger Kyffin held her other hand, her spirit took its departure.

Roger Kyffin would gladly have carried Harry off to London, but no sooner did Lady Tryon hear of the death of her neglected daughter-in-law, than, driving over to the cottage, she took Harry with her back to Aylestone Hall. She directed also that a proper funeral should be prepared; and at her request several distant members and connections of the family attended it. Thus Mrs. Tryon was laid to rest with as much pomp and ceremony as possible, in Lynderton churchyard.

With a sad heart Roger Kyffin returned to London and devoted himself with even more than his usual a.s.siduity to his mercantile duties.

Aylestone Hall was a red brick building, surrounded by a limited extent of garden and shrubbery, within half a mile of the town of Lynderton.

The interior, for a country house, had a somewhat gloomy and unpicturesque aspect. Young Harry felt depressed by the atmosphere, so different from the cheerful little cottage, with its flower-surrounded lawn, to which he had been accustomed. He was not drawn either to his grandmother, though she intended to be kind to him. She treated him indeed much as a child does a new plaything, constantly fondling it at first, and then casting it aside uncared for. Harry was also soon nauseated by the old lady's caresses. He had, too, a natural antipathy to musk, of which her garments were redolent.

Lady Tryon was a small woman with strongly marked features, decidedly forbidding at first sight, though she possessed the art of smiling, and making herself very agreeable to her equals. She could smile especially very sweetly when she had an object to gain, or wished to be particularly agreeable; but her countenance could also a.s.sume a very different aspect when she was angry. She had bright grey eyes, which seemed to look through and through the person to whom she was speaking, while her countenance, utterly devoid of colour, was wrinkled and puckered in a curious way. She always wore rouge, and was dressed in the height of fashion. She very soon discarded her widow's ugly cap, and the gayest, of colours decked her shrivelled form, the waist almost close up under the arms, and the dress very low, a shawl being flung over her shoulders. She could laugh and enjoy a joke, but her voice was discordant, and even when she wished to be most courteous there was a want of sincerity in its tone. Lady Tryon had been maid of honour in her youth to a royal personage, and possessed a fund of anecdote about the Court, which was listened to with respectful delight by her country neighbours. She was supposed to have very literary tastes, and to have read every book in existence. The fact was that she scarcely ever looked into one, but she picked up a semblance of knowledge, and having a retentive memory was able to make the most of any information she obtained. In the same way she had got by heart a large supply of poetry, which she was very clever in quoting, and as her audience was not often very critical, any mistakes of which she might have been guilty were rarely discovered. Her chief talent was in letter-writing, and she kept up a constant epistolary correspondence with aristocratic friends. No one could more elegantly turn a compliment or express sympathy with sorrow and disappointment. She occasionally, too, penned a copy of verses. If there was not much originality in the lines, the words were well chosen, and the metre correct. She described herself as being a warm friend and a bitter enemy. The latter she had undoubtedly proved herself on more than one occasion; but the warmth of her friendship depended rather upon the amount of advantage she was likely to gain by its exhibition than from any sensation of the heart. In fact, those who knew her best had reason to doubt whether she was possessed of that article. In reality, its temperature was, without variation, down at zero. Poor Sir Harcourt, a warmhearted man, had discovered this fact before he had been very long united to her. She, however, managed from the first to rule him with a rod of iron, and to gain her own way in everything. Most fatally had she gained it in the management of her son, whom she had utterly ruined by her pernicious system of education. Sir Harcourt endeavoured to make all the excuses for her in his power.

"She is all mind!" he used to observe. "A delightful woman--such powers of conversation! We must not expect too much from people! She has a wonderful command of her feelings: never saw her excited in my life! A wonderful mind, a wonderful mind has Lady Tryon!"

Lady Tryon had, however, one pa.s.sion. It absorbed her sufficiently to make her forget any annoyances. She was fond of play. She would sit up half the night at cards, and, cool and calculating, she generally managed to come off winner. Of late years she had not been so successful. Her mind was not so strong as it was, and all her powers of calculation had decreased. Still she retained the pa.s.sion as strong as ever. In London she had no difficulty in gratifying it, but during her forced visits to the country she found few people willing to play with her. At first, her country neighbours were highly flattered at being invited to her house, but they soon found that they had to pay somewhat dear for the honour. Still her ladyship, while winning their money, was so agreeable, and smiled so sweetly, and spoke so softly, that like flies round the candle, they could not resist the temptation of frequenting her house. For some years she managed to rule the neighbourhood with a pretty high hand. There was only one person who refused to succ.u.mb to her blandishments, and of her she consequently stood not a little in awe. This person was an auth.o.r.ess, not unknown to fame. She had more than once detected the piracies of which Lady Tryon had been guilty in her poetical effusions, and could not resist, when her ladyship spoke of books, asking her in which review she had seen such and such remarks. Miss Bertrand was young, not pretty, certainly, but very genuine and agreeable, and possessed of a large amount of talent. She drew admirably, and her prose and poetical works were delightful. Lady Tryon looked upon her as a rival, and hated her accordingly.

Such was the grand-dame under whose care Harry Tryon was to be brought up. Dr. Jessop was not happy about the matter. He would far rather that the honest clerk had taken charge of the boy. He resolved, however, as far as he had the power, to counteract the injudicious system he discovered that Lady Tryon was pursuing. For this purpose he won the little fellow's affection, and as he was a constant visitor at the house in his official capacity, he was able to maintain his influence. When her ladyship went to town he induced her to allow Harry to come and stay with him, and on these occasions he never failed to invite Roger Kyffin down to pay him a visit. The worthy clerk's holidays were therefore always spent in the neighbourhood of Lynderton.

The two kindly men on these occasions did their best to pluck out the ill weeds which had been growing up in Master Harry, while under his grandmother's care. It was, however, no easy task to root them out, and to sow good seed in their stead. Still, by their means Harry did learn the difference between good and evil, which, if left to Lady Tryon's instructions, he certainly would never have done. He also became very much attached to the old doctor and to his younger friend, and would take advice from them, which he would receive from no one else. He grew up a fine, manly boy, with many right and honourable feelings; and though his mental powers might not have been of a very high order, he had fair talents, and physically his development was very perfect. Lady Tryon herself began to teach him to read, and as he showed a considerable apt.i.tude for acquiring instruction, and gave her no trouble, she continued the process till he was able to read without difficulty by himself. She put all sorts of books into his hands, from which his brain extracted a strange jumble of ideas. He certainly acquired very good manners from his grandmother, and to the surprise of the neighbourhood, when he was ten years old there was scarcely a better behaved boy in Lynderton. Dr. Jessop then suggested that he should be sent to Winchester School, or some other place of public instruction.

Lady Tryon would not hear of this, though she consented that he should attend the grammar school at Lynderton. For this the worthy doctor was not sorry.

"I can look after him the better," he said to himself, "and go on with the process of pulling up the weeds during her ladyship's absence."

Harry's holidays were generally spent in the country. Twice, however, his grandmother had him up to London in the winter. On these occasions, Mr. Kyffin got leave from her ladyship to have him to stay with him part of the time. Every spare moment of the day was devoted to the lad. He took him to all the sights of London, and in the evenings contrived for him variety of amus.e.m.e.nt. Harry became more and more attached to Mr.

Kyffin, and more ready to listen to his advice, and more anxious to please him. Thus the boy grew on, gaining mental and physical strength, though without forming many a.s.sociates of his own rank in life. His manners were very good, and his tastes were refined, and this prevented him a.s.sociating with the ordinary run of boys at the grammar school.

CHAPTER FOUR.

HARRY TRYON'S FIRST ADVENTURE.--LYNDERTON AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD.

Harry Tryon in his new home had the sea constantly before his eyes.

Sometimes he saw it blue and laughing, and dotted over with the white canvas of numerous vessels glistening in the sunshine. At other times the stout ships were tossed by tempests, or doing battle with the foaming waves. Often the boy longed for the life of a sailor, to go forth over that broad unknown ocean in search of adventure; but the old lady would not hear of it. It was the only wish in which she thwarted him: she usually spoiled him, and gave him everything he asked for, especially if he cried loud enough for it. But he was now getting too old to cry for what he wanted, and he must take some other means to obtain his wishes. Poor Harry! his nursery life had been a checkered one; sometimes shut up by himself in a dark room, sometimes almost starved and frightened to death; at others pampered, stuffed with rich food, exhibited in the drawing-room as a prodigy, his vanity excited, and allowed to do exactly as he listed. Perhaps one style of treatment checked the bad effects of the other.

Lynderton stood on the bank of a small river. Harry had no difficulty in obtaining a boat, in which he learned to row. Lady Tryon did not know how he was employed, or she would probably have sent for him, and kept him driving about in her musk-smelling carriage, which Harry hated.

As he grew older he managed to get trips in fishing vessels, on board small traders which ran between the neighbouring ports, and sometimes he got a trip on board a revenue cruiser--the old "Rose," well known on the coast. There were not many yachts in those days; but two or three of the people residing at Lynderton had small vessels, and Harry was always a welcome guest on board them. His love for the sea was thus partially gratified and fostered, and he became a first-rate hand in a boat or yacht. Still he yearned for something else.

One day he was standing on the quay at the foot of the town, when a stout sailor lad stopped near him, and putting out his hand exclaimed: "Well, Master Harry! I did not know you at first: you are grown so.

You're looking out for a sail down the river, I'll warrant?"

"You are right, Jacob," answered Harry, shaking the proffered hand. "I have not had a sniff of salt water for the last week. But where have you been all this time?"

"I have been to sea, Master Harry--to foreign lands--and if you are so minded I will help you to take a trip there, too."

"You have not been away long enough to go to any foreign lands that I know of, except perhaps the coast of France or to Holland," observed Harry.

"That's just where I have been, Master Harry, and if you like to come down along the quay I will show you the craft I went in. She's not one a seaman need be ashamed of, let me tell you."

Harry accompanied his friend. Jacob Tuttle had been one of Harry's first companions in a boat, and he indeed taught him to row. As he was six or eight years older than Harry, the latter looked at him with great respect, and considered him an accomplished seaman. He was, indeed, a good specimen of the British sailor of those days, brave, open-hearted, and generous, but with the smallest possible amount of judgment or discretion. Harry accompanied him along the bank of the river for some distance.

"There! what do you think of her?" asked Jacob, pointing to a wonderfully long, narrow lugger which lay alongside the wooden quay or jetty. "She measures 120 feet from the tip of her bowsprit to the end of her outrigger, and she sails like the wind. We pull forty oars, and there is no revenue cutter can come near us, blow high or blow low."

The vessel at which Harry and his companion were looking was indeed a beautiful craft. She had fore and aft cuddies for sleeping berths, and was open amid-ships "for the stowage of 2,000 kegs of spirits," Jacob whispered in Harry's ear. "Would you not like to take a trip in her, Master Harry?"

Harry confessed that he should like it very much.

Lady Tryon was on the point of starting for London. Probably the "Saucy Sally" would not sail for two or three days. He might make the trip and be back again without anybody knowing anything about it. Tuttle would introduce Harry to the skipper. He was a first-rate fellow, whether an Englishman or a foreigner he could not tell, but his equal was not easily to be found. It was a pleasure to be with him in a gale of wind, and to hear him issue his orders. Captain Falwa.s.ser was his name. The "Saucy Sally" carried fifty hands, officers and crew, all told, and had guns too, but they were kept stowed away below, unless wanted.

"But, Harry, come on board."

Harry could not resist the temptation. He reflected little about the rights of the thing, and even if he had, to say the truth, Captain Falwa.s.ser's occupation was at that time not much condemned by public opinion. He soon found himself visiting every part of the "Saucy Sally," and being introduced to her daring skipper. Captain Falwa.s.ser was a strongly-built man, but in other respects refined and gentlemanly in appearance. The expression of his lips showed wonderful determination, and those who looked at his eye felt that they were in the presence of a man accustomed to command his fellows. His cheek was pale and sunken, and there was on his features a settled expression of melancholy. Harry was delighted with all he saw, and longed more than ever to take a trip on board the lugger. Captain Falwa.s.ser, however, did not seem inclined to indulge him in his wish. At last he had to go on sh.o.r.e, and return home. A few days after this he saw the "Saucy Sally" with her jovial crew, loudly cheering, while she dropped down the river, the Custom House officers looking on.

"We'll catch them one of these days, in spite of all their cunning,"

observed one. "They think we don't know when they are coming back. We will show them their mistake."

Harry kept thinking of the "Saucy Sally" and her bold skipper, and he still entertained the hopes of some day making a trip in her. Two or three weeks pa.s.sed away, and once more she lay in Lynderton river, with her empty hold looking as innocent as if she had been merely out for a few hours' pleasure trip. There were reports of a large cargo having been run somewhere on the Dorsetshire coast, not far from Yarmouth, but of course the crew of the "Saucy Sally" knew nothing of the matter. A body of yeomanry had met a large party of waggons, surrounded by two or three hundred men, each with pistols in their holsters, and carbines in their hands, proceeding northward; but the soldiers considered discretion, in this case, the better part of valour, being very sure, had they attempted to interfere with them, they would be cut down to a man. It was shrewdly suspected that this cavalcade was conveying to a place of safety the cargo landed from the "Saucy Sally." Harry very naturally went down to have a look at the lugger. Jacob Tuttle told him how sorry he had felt that he could not come the last trip.

"If you have a mind for it still, come on board the night before, and I will stow you away. When we are fairly at sea, you can come out, and if the skipper is angry I will stand the blame."

Harry managed to get away from Aylestone Hall, his grandmother being still absent, and was, unseen by any one, stowed on board the "Saucy Sally." It is possible that more than once, while shut up in the close cuddy, he repented of his proposed exploit. However, he was in for it, as the crew, most of them half-seas over, kept coming on board. The next morning, if not as sober as judges, they were yet pretty well able to handle the lugger, and with their usual exulting shouts they manned their oars and pulled down the river. They were soon at sea, and getting a slant of wind, the smuggler's enormous lug-sails were hoisted, and away she stood towards the French coast. Jacob, according to promise, released Harry. The skipper's sharp eye soon singled him out, though he kept forward among the crew. He was summoned aft, and fully expected a severe scolding.

"What made you come with us, my boy?" asked Captain Falwa.s.ser, in a kind tone. "You are too young to run the dangers we have to go through. You will have enough of them by-and-bye. And so Jacob Tuttle brought you, did he? I will settle that business with him. You must be under my charge till I land you again at Lynderton."

Jacob Tuttle not only got a severe scolding, but the captain threatened to dismiss him as soon as they got back to England. Meantime the appearance of the lugger was being changed. The crew, as they drew near the French coast, dressed as Frenchmen, and pieces of painted canvas were hung over the sides of the vessel, so that she no longer looked like the trim, dashing craft she really was. The "Saucy Sally" dropped her anchor close in with the coast, just as the shades of evening fell over the ocean. A boat was lowered. Harry had been made to change his dress like the rest. The skipper invited him to accompany him.

"Remember you are to be dumb," said Captain Falwa.s.ser. "If you keep close to me no harm will come to you."

A light was shown on board the vessel, and was immediately answered by another on sh.o.r.e. Soon afterwards a number of boats were heard approaching. The captain exchanged a signal with one of them, and then continued his course to the sh.o.r.e. After walking some distance they reached a town. The captain paid several visits, and as he spoke French, Harry could not make out what was said. The captain seemed greatly surprised and shocked at some disastrous news he heard. He transacted business with some people on whom he called, and Harry saw him pay away the contents of a large bag of gold. He was more silent than ever on his walk back to the beach. He sighed deeply. "Unhappy France, unhappy France!" he said to himself; "what is to become of you?"

When they got on board the lugger again, she was deeply laden with kegs and bales of goods. That instant her anchor was tripped, and sail being made, she stood back towards the English coast. Daylight soon afterwards broke. She made the land some time before dark, but waited till she could not be seen from the sh.o.r.e before she ran in. Sharp eyes kept looking out for the expected signal: it was made. She ran in till her bows almost touched the sand. Fully three hundred people were waiting on the beach; with wonderful rapidity her cargo was landed, and each cask or bale being put on the broad shoulders of a stout fellow, was carried away instantly up the cliff. Not a yard of silk, a bottle of brandy, nor a pound of tobacco remained on board. Instantly the oars were got out, and before daylight she was once more at the mouth of Lynderton river.