Orley Farm quotes

It is not true that a rose by any other name will smell as sweet.

Were it true, I should call this story The Great Orley Farm Case. But who would ask for the ninth number of a serial work burdened with so very uncouth an appellation? Thence, and therefore—Orley Farm.

Samuel Dockwrath to his wife, as he stood up before his parlour-fire after breakfast, and the woman to whom he referred was Lady Mason. Mr. Samuel Dockwrath was very angry as he so spoke, or at any rate he seemed to be so.

There are men who take a delight in abusing those special friends whom their wives best love, and Mr. Dockwrath was one of these.

He had never given his cordial consent to the intercourse which had hitherto existed between the lady of Orley Farm and his household, although he had not declined the substantial benefits which had accompanied it.

And look here, Miriam, I won’t have you going up to Orley Farm on any pretence whatever; do you hear that?” and then, having given that imperative command to his wife and slave, the lord and master of that establishment walked forth into his office.

On the whole Miriam Usbech might have done better had she followed the advice of her patroness in early life, and married the stupid clerk.

This resolve he pronounced very clearly while yet in Germany, whither his mother visited him, bearing with her a long letter written by the great Mr. Furnival himself. But nevertheless young Mason would have none of the law.

“I have an idea,” he said, “that lawyers are all liars.”

Whereupon his mother rebuked him for his conceited ignorance and want of charity; but she did not gain her point.

“But, Lucius, should not such new attempts as that be made by men with large capital?” said the mother.

“Capital is a bugbear,” said the son, speaking on this matter quite ex cathedra, as no doubt he was entitled to do by his extensive reading at a German university⁠—“capital is a bugbear. The capital that is really wanting is thought, mind, combination, knowledge.”

“Yes, I know what you are going to say, mother. I don’t boast that I possess all these things; but I do say that I will endeavour to obtain them.”

… not sure that those whose boyhoods are so protracted have the worst of it, if in this hurrying and competitive age they can be saved from being absolutely trampled in the dust before they are able to do a little trampling on their own account.

Fruit that grows ripe the quickest is not the sweetest; nor when housed and garnered will it keep the longest.

For young Peregrine there was no need of competitive struggles. The days have not yet come, though they are no doubt coming, when detur digniori shall be the rule of succession to all titles, honours, and privileges whatsoever.

Of an action and damages there did not seem to be any chance, and the amount of money claimed was not large.

Rats have this advantage, that they usually come cheaper than racehorses; but then, as Sir Peregrine felt sorely, they do not sound so well.

“Do you know, sir, that you are breaking your mother’s heart?” said Sir Peregrine, looking very sternly at the young man—as sternly as he was able to look, let him do his worst.

He sold his goods, collected his money, and made his remittances. If he got drunk at night that was nothing to them, seeing that he always did his quota of work the next day. But Mr. Moulder did not get drunk.

His brandy and water went into his blood, and into his eyes, and into his feet, and into his hands⁠—but not into his brain.

The other was a little square man in the hardware line, of the name of Kantwise.

I have said that she spent much money in dress, and some people will perhaps think that the two points of character are not compatible. Such people know nothing of a true spirit of parsimony.

It is from the backs and bellies of other people that savings are made with the greatest constancy and the most satisfactory results.

The parsimony of a mistress of a household is best displayed on matters eatable;—on matters eatable and drinkable; for there is a fine scope for domestic savings in tea, beer, and milk. And in such matters chiefly did Mrs.

and yet all such going out may be matter of intense pain. It is all very well for the world to say that a girl should be happy without reference to her clothes.

Show me such a girl, and I will show you one whom I should be very sorry that a boy of mine should choose as his sweetheart.

The three Misses Mason, as they always were called by the Groby Park people, had been christened Diana, Creusa, and Penelope, their mother having a passion for classic literature, which she indulged by a use of Lemprière’s dictionary.

But it was of his own condition that he was speaking. The idea which shocked him was the thought of the treatment which he himself had undergone. The dreadful thing at which he shuddered was his own ill usage. As for her;—pity for her!

Did a man ever pity a rat that had eaten into his choicest dainties?

“The lunch is on the table, sir,” said the Groby Park footman in the Groby Park livery. Under the present household arrangement of Groby Park all the servants lived on board wages. Mrs.

There was again a silence between the host and his guest for some two or three minutes, during which Mr. Mason was endeavouring to get the lunch out of his head, and to redirect his whole mind to Lady Mason and his hopes of vengeance.

There is nothing perhaps so generally consoling to a man as a well-established grievance; a feeling of having been injured, on which his mind can brood from hour to hour, allowing him to plead his own cause in his own court, within his own heart⁠—and always to plead it successfully.

At last Mr. Mason succeeded, and he could think of his enemy’s fraud and forget his wife’s meanness. “I suppose I may as well order my gig now,” said Mr. Dockwrath, as soon as his host had arrived at this happy frame of mind.

“He said he was ’mercial,” said James. “So he did. Now he says as how he’s a lawyer. What’s a poor man to do?”

“I’m a commercial lawyer,” said Dockwrath.

“He must leave the room, or I shall leave the house,” said Moulder.

Nevertheless she was not altogether charming.

“I don’t feel quite sure that she is real,” Mrs. Orme had said of her, when on a certain occasion Miss Furnival had spent a day and a night at The Cleeve.

Furnival was within. Mr. Crabwitz had all the will in the world to stop her progress, but he found that he lacked the power to stay it for a moment.

The advantages of matrimony are many and great⁠—so many and so great, that all men, doubtless, ought to marry.

But even matrimony may have its drawbacks; among which unconcealed and undeserved jealousy on the part of the wife is perhaps as disagreeable as any.

Mr. Furnival was a clever lawyer, and she had great need of his assistance; therefore she had come to his chambers, and therefore she had placed her hand in his. That Mr. Furnival liked his client because she was good looking may be true.

I like my horse, my picture, the view from my study window for the same reason.

I am inclined to think that there was nothing more in it than that.

“

Cheaper! not what women generally call cheaper. If there be anything on earth that I hate, it is a bargain.

A man who looks for bargains must be a dupe or a cheat, and is probably both.”

A black frown came across his brow as he meditated on her late intrusion, and he made some sort of resolve that that kind of thing should be prevented for the future.

He did not make up his mind how he would prevent it⁠—a point which husbands sometimes overlook in their marital resolutions.

And then, instead of counting up her virtues, he counted up his own. Had he not given her everything; a house such as she had not dreamed of in her younger days? servants, carriages, money, comforts, and luxuries of all sorts?

If Mrs. Orme would give him a lecture on farming it might be possible to listen to it without contradiction; but there was no chance for him in that respect.

Mrs. Orme never gave lectures to anyone on any subject.

“So, Master Lucius, you have been to Liverpool, I hear,” said Sir Peregrine.

and then the pressure of her hand, when it was given, told more than a whole embrace from some other women.

There are ladies who always kiss their female friends, and always call them “dear.” In such cases one cannot but pity her who is so bekissed.

Mrs. Orme did not kiss Lady Mason, nor did she call her dear; but she smiled sweetly as she uttered her greeting, and looked kindness out of her marvellously blue eyes;

“Better that, Sir Peregrine, than wilfully go to sleep when there is so much work to be done.”

“A man when he’s asleep does no harm,” said Sir Peregrine.

“What a comfortable doctrine to think of when the servant comes with the hot water at eight o’clock in the morning!” said his grandson.

“A man when he’s asleep does no harm,” said Sir Peregrine.

“What a comfortable doctrine to think of when the servant comes with the hot water at eight o’clock in the morning!” said his grandson.

“It is one that you study very constantly, I fear,” said the old man, who at this time was on excellent terms with his heir.

So she sat alone till dinnertime planning how she would do this. She had sat alone for hours in the same way planning how she would tell her story to Sir Peregrine; and again as to her second story for Mr. Furnival.

Those whose withers are unwrung can hardly guess how absolutely a sore under the collar will embitter every hour for the poor jade who is so tormented!

But she met him at dinner with a smiling face. He loved to see her smile, and often told her so, almost upbraiding her when she would look sad. Why should she be sad, seeing that she had everything that a woman could desire?

but you might turn the backs of them chairs nearly down to the ground, and they will come straight again. You let me send you a set for your wife to look at. If she’s not charmed with them I’ll—I’ll—I’ll eat them.”

“Women are charmed with anything,” said Mr. Dockwrath. “A new bonnet does that.”

“They know what they are about pretty well, as I dare say you have found out. I’ll send express to Sheffield and have a completely new set put up for you.”

“Vox et praeterea nihil.” To practical Englishmen most of these international congresses seem to arrive at nothing else. Men will not be talked out of the convictions of their lives.

No living orator would convince a grocer that coffee should be sold without chicory; and no amount of eloquence will make an English lawyer think that loyalty to truth should come before loyalty to his client.

And therefore our own pundits, though on this occasion they went to Birmingham, summoned by the greatness of the occasion, by the dignity of foreign names, by interest in the question, and by the influence of such men as Lord Boanerges, went there without any …

“

He believes everything⁠—unless it is the Bible.

He is one of those young men who look for an instant millennium, and who regard themselves not only as the prophets who foretell it, but as the preachers who will produce it.

I am inclined, myself, to agree with Felix Graham that such efforts are seldom absolutely wasted. A man who strives honestly to do good will generally do good, though seldom perhaps as much as he has himself anticipated.

Let Von Bauhr have his pedestal among the flowers, even though it be small and humble!

I am inclined, myself, to agree with Felix Graham that such efforts are seldom absolutely wasted.

A man who strives honestly to do good will generally do good, though seldom perhaps as much as he has himself anticipated.

Let Von Bauhr have his pedestal among the flowers, even though it be small and humble!

“I think we are; but laws and their management have nothing to do with making people honest.

Good laws won’t make people honest, nor bad laws dishonest.

”

But I am altogether departing from Madeline Staveley’s external graces. It was a pity almost that she should ever have become grave, because with her it was her smile that was so lovely.

She smiled with her whole face.

There was at such moments a peculiar laughing light in her gray eyes, which inspired one with an earnest desire to be in her confidence;

“

He sails about in the open sea, touching at all the most lovely capes and promontories, and is never driven on shore by stress of weather!

What a happy sailor he must be!”

“That depends on the people by whom the things are spoken.

In this world, if we meet a chimney-sweep in the path we do not hustle with him for the right of way.

Your mother is going next week to The Cleeve. It was only yesterday that I heard that the Noningsby people are going to call on her. You can hardly, I suppose, desire for your mother better friends than such as these.

“There are lawyers of repute staying at Noningsby,” he had said, “with whom it is very expedient that I should remain at this present crisis.”—

When yet has there been no crisis present to a man who has wanted an excuse?

—“And therefore I may probably stay,”—and so on. Who does not know the false mixture of excuse and defiance which such a letter is sure to maintain;

“You are quite wrong about him,” Felix had said. “He has not been at an English school, or English university, and therefore is not like other young men that you know; but he is, I think, well educated and clever.

As for conceit, what man will do any good who is not conceited? Nobody holds a good opinion of a man who has a low opinion of himself.

”

As he gave her the required promise, he thought that even the sports of Christmas-day would be bearable, if she also were to make one of the sportsmen; and then they entered the church.

I do not know of anything more pleasant to the eye than a pretty country church, decorated for Christmas-day.

The effect in a city is altogether different. I will not say that churches there should not be decorated, but comparatively it is a matter of indifference. No one knows who does it.

She was a beautiful fair little thing, with long, soft curls, and lips red as a rose, and large, bright blue eyes, all soft and happy and laughing, loving the friends of her childhood with passionate love, and fully expecting an equal devotion from them.

It is of such children that our wives and sweethearts should be made.

“But how am I to find you when my eyes are blinded?”

“That would be a temptation,” said the judge. “I’ve never been able to do that yet, though I’ve been trying it for some years.”

“Justice is blind,” said Graham. “Why should a judge be ashamed to follow the example of his own goddess?”

And so at last the owner of the ermine submitted, and the stern magistrate of the bench was led round with the due incantation of the spirits, and dismissed into chaos to seek for a new victim.

“But the ghost must speak when such large hands invade the cauldron;” and then another raid was effected, and the threatened blow was given.

Had anyone told her in the morning that she would that day have rapped Mr. Graham’s knuckles with a kitchen spoon, she would not have believed that person; but it is thus that hearts are lost and won.

And Peregrine Orme looked on from a distance, thinking of it all. That he should have been stricken dumb by the beauty of any girl was surprising even to himself;

But she could not bring herself to spread any board with plenty, and the idea of an open house would almost break her heart.

Unlimited eating! There was something in the very sounds of such words which was appalling to the inner woman.

And on this Christmas-day she was doomed to go through an ordeal of very peculiar severity.

And then they all went to church. Mrs. Mason would not on any account have missed church on Christmas-day or a Sunday.

It was a cheap duty, and therefore rigidly performed.

As she walked from her carriage up to the church-door she encountered Mrs. Green, and smiled sweetly as she wished that lady all the compliments of the season.

She had made an effort and turned away, saying to herself that the responsibility was all with him. But it was of no use.

There was that within her which could not do it.

“Your master will never be able to carve such a mountain of meat as that,” she had said, turning back to the cook. “Deed, an’ it’s he that will, ma’am,” said the Irish mistress of the spit;

“And I ain’t afeard to die. Snengkeld, my old pal, hand us the brandy.”

Such is the modern philosophy of the Moulders, pigs out of the sty of Epicurus.

And so it was they passed Christmas-day in Great St. Helens.

nor may I trundle my hoop along the high road as do the little boys. The fitness of things forbids it. But that old man’s heart is as soft as thine, if thou couldst but read it.

The body dries up and withers away, and the bones grow old; the brain, too, becomes decrepit, as do the sight, the hearing, and the soul. But the heart that is tender once remains tender to the last.

Lady Mason, when she left the library, walked across the hall towards the drawing-room, and then she paused.

“

Ah, me! why don’t we all express the admiration that we feel, and pour sweet praises into the ears of the lady that excites it? Because we are cowards, Miss Furnival, and are afraid even of such a weak thing as a woman.

”

“I fear it is broken,” said Peregrine. Graham nodded his head, and raised his left hand to his breast; and Peregrine then knew that something else was amiss also.

I don’t know any feeling more disagreeable than that produced by being left alone in a field, when out hunting, with a man who has been very much hurt and who is incapable of riding or walking.

The hurt man himself has the privilege of his infirmities and may remain quiescent; but you, as his only attendant, must do something. You must for the moment do all, and if you do wrong the whole responsibility lies on your shoulders.

But the wounded man was still unfortunately on the other side. No cart from Farmer Griggs made its appearance, though it was now more than half an hour since the boy had gone.

Carts, when they are wanted in such sudden haste, do not make their appearance.

It was two miles through the wood to Mr. Griggs’s farmyard, and more than three miles back by any route which the cart could take.

And then Peregrine came after them leading Graham’s horse. He had been compelled to return to the field and ride both the horses back into the wood; one after the other, while the footman held them.

That riding back over fences in cold blood is the work that really tries a man’s nerve.

And a man has to do it too when no one is looking on. How he does crane and falter and look about for an easy place at such a moment as that! But when the blood is cold, no places are easy.

“Madeline,” he said, stretching out his hand when he perceived that she did not speak to him at once. “There is my hand. If it be possible give me yours.”

“I know that I have not said what I had to say very⁠—very gracefully. But you will not regard that I think. You are too good, and too true.”

She had now seated herself, and he was standing before her. She had retreated to a sofa in order to avoid the hand which he had offered her; but he followed her, and even yet did not know that he had no chance of success.

“I dare say you’re right,” said Mr. Crabwitz, mixing a quarter of a glass more brandy and water.

“I know I’m right, sir,” said Dockwrath. “And when a man knows he’s right, he has a deal of inward satisfaction in the feeling.”

After that Mr. Crabwitz was aware that he could be of no use at Hamworth, but he stayed out his week in order to avoid suspicion.

The idea of a wife thus moulded to fit a man’s own grooves, and educated to suit matrimonial purposes according to the exact views of the future husband was by no means original with him.

Other men have moulded their wives, but I do not know that as a rule the practice has been found to answer.

It is open, in the first place, to this objection—that the moulder does not generally conceive such idea very early in life, and the idea when conceived must necessarily be carried out on a young subject.

“Oh, yes, indeed I do;” and then Mary’s eyes fell wishfully on the cover of the book which lay in her lap while her finger kept the place.

Rasselas is not very exciting, but it was more so than Mrs. Thomas.

“You would be very wicked if you did not. And I hope you think sometimes of the very responsible duties which a wife owes to her husband.

“Angel of light!” it began, “but cold as your own fair name.” Poor Mary thought it was very nice and very sweet, and though she was so much afraid of it that she almost wished it away, yet she read it a score of times.

Stolen pleasures always are sweet.

She had not cared to read those two lines from her own betrothed lord above once, or at the most twice; and yet they had been written by a good man—a man superlatively good to her, and written too with considerable pain.

The public would understand and would speak out, and the reptile would be scorned and trodden under foot.

Poor Lucius! It is not always so easy to catch public sympathy, and it will occur sometimes that the wrong reptile is crushed by the great public heel.

He had his books before him as he sat there—his Latham and his Pritchard, and he had the jawbone of one savage and the skull of another.

Lucius Mason when he had read so far threw down the letter upon the table, and rising suddenly from his chair walked rapidly up and down the room. “Marry him!” he said out loud, “marry him!”

The idea that their fathers and mothers should marry and enjoy themselves is always a thing horrible to be thought of in the minds of the rising generation.

Lucius Mason now began to feel against his mother the same sort of anger which Joseph Mason had felt when his father had married again. “Marry him!” And then he walked rapidly about the room, as though some great injury had been threatened to him.

“But you men have no eyes; you never see anything. And your idea of lovemaking is to sit under a tree wishing, wondering whether the ripe fruit will fall down into your mouth.

Ripe fruit does sometimes fall, and then it is all well with you. But if it won’t, you pass on and say that it is sour.

As for climbing—”

Should he hear more of Madeline’s footsteps?—and if not, why should they have been banished from the corridor? Should he hear her voice again at the door—and if not, why should it have been hushed?

There is a silence which may be more eloquent than the sounds which it follows.

Had no one in that house guessed the feelings in his bosom, she would have walked along the corridor as usual, and spoken a word with her sweet voice in answer to his word. He felt sure that this would be so no more;

He has the power of the purse and the power of the law; and if, having these, he goes to the wall, it must be because he is a poor creature.

Those who so say have probably never tried the position.

Mr. Furnival did not wish to send for his wife, because by doing so he would have laid bare his sore before his servants. He could not follow her, because he knew that he should not find her alone in her room.

I am afraid that there was some truth in what Spooner said.

It is the first rumpus of the thing, or rather the fear of that, which keeps together many a couple.

At one o’clock there came a timid female rap at Mr. Furnival’s chamber door, and the juvenile clerk gave admittance to Lady Mason.

But when the bright eyes do glance, such men pass by abashed; and when the occasion offers, their wit is never at hand.

Nevertheless they are not the least happy of mankind, these never-readies; they do not pick up sudden prizes, but they hold fast by such good things as the ordinary run of life bestows upon them.

There was a lady even now, a friend of Mrs.

“It’s quite beautiful to hear him,” said Mrs. Smiley. “Go on, Mr. Kenneby.”

“The years are gone by as though they was nothing, and still I’ve had her image on my heart. I’ve seen her today.”

“Her gentleman’s still alive, ain’t he?” asked Mrs. Smiley.

“And likely to live,” said Mrs. Moulder.

“I’ve seen her today,” Kenneby continued; “and now the Adriatic’s free to wed another.”

Neither of the ladies present exactly understood the force of the quotation; but as it contained an appropriate reference to marriage, and apparently to a second marriage, it was taken by both of them in good part.

… are set, and the skin moist with sweat and rough with dust, when all is doubtful and sometimes desperate, when a man must trust to his own manhood knowing that those around him trust to it not at all—that is the happy time of life.

There is no human bliss equal to twelve hours of work with only six hours in which to do it.

And when the expected pay for that work is worse than doubtful, the inner satisfaction is so much the greater.

Let him, like Muhammad, have one other to believe in him, and surely nothing else is needed. “Ah me! I wonder whether you ever think of the old days when we used to be so happy in Keppel Street?”

Nothing makes a man so cross as success, or so soon turns a pleasant friend into a captious acquaintance.

Your successful man eats too much and his stomach troubles him; he drinks too much and his nose becomes blue. He wants pleasure and excitement, and roams about looking for satisfaction in places where no man ever found it.

Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Green, Mrs. Walker and all the other mistresses, are too vapid and stupid and humdrum for endurance. The theatres are dull as Lethe, and politics have lost their salt.

Success is the necessary misfortune of life, but it is only to the very unfortunate that it comes early.

Mrs. Furnival, when she had finished her letter and fastened it, drew one of the heavy dining-room armchairs over against the fire, and sat herself down to consider her past life, still holding the letter in her lap.

He could pass through that wood, and then down by an old farmhouse at the other end of it, and so on to the Alston road, within a mile of Noningsby. He knew the ground well, for he had ridden over every field of it.

When a man does so after thirty he forgets the spots which he passes in his hurry, but when he does so before twenty he never forgets.

That field and that wood Peregrine Orme would never forget. There was the double ditch and bank over which Harriet Tristram had ridden with so much skill and courage.

But the friend of Mrs. Furnival’s bosom could not help feeling her opportunity. Mrs. Furnival had now thrown herself very much upon her friend, and of course the friend now expected unlimited privileges;—as is always the case with friends in such a position.

It is very well to have friends to lean upon, but it is not always well to lean upon one’s friends.

“I will be with you before you start in the morning,” said Martha.

But true to her word she came in the morning in ample time to catch Mrs. Furnival before she started, and for half an hour poured out sweet counsel into her friend’s ear.

If one’s friends would as a rule refrain from action how much more strongly would real friendship flourish in the world!

“Now, Kitty, I do trust you will persist in seeing her.”

“There are occasions in a man’s life when he is bound to be solemn. You are going away from us, Miss Furnival—”

“One would think I was going to Edo, whereas I am going to Harley Street.”

“And I may come and see you there!”

And then his daughter had had the wit to love this man so endowed. It was almost on his tongue to tell Graham that he might go and seek the girl and plead his own cause to her.

But bread is bread, and butcher’s bills are bills!

The man and the father, and the successful possessor of some thousands a year, was too strong at last for the softhearted philanthropist. Therefore, having collected his thoughts, he thus expressed himself upon the occasion:—

“Oh dear no. She’s in Red Lion Square. And I’m sure, Tom, I never had her here except when you wouldn’t dine at home.

I wonder whether you know how lonely it is to sit down to dinner all by oneself!

”

There is my hand. I stand before you now as sad a man as there is in all London. But there is my hand—will you take it and give me yours in pledge of your love.”

I should be unjust to Lucius Mason were I to omit to say that he played his part with a becoming air.

Unhappiness and a melancholy mood suited him perhaps better than the world’s ordinary good-humour. He was a man who looked his best when under a cloud, and shone the brightest when everything about him was dark. And Sophia also was not unequal to the occasion.

Surely had they been honest-minded in their profession they would all have so wished;—have so wished, or else have abstained from all professional intercourse in the matter.

I cannot understand how any gentleman can be willing to use his intellect for the propagation of untruth, and to be paid for so using it.

As to Mr. Chaffanbrass and Mr. Solomon Aram—to them the escape of a criminal under their auspices would of course be a matter of triumph. To such work for many years had they applied their sharp intellects and legal knowledge. But of Mr.

The sorrows of Lydia in the play when she finds that her passion meets with general approbation are very absurd but, nevertheless, are quite true to nature.

Lovers would be great losers if the path of love were always to run smooth.

Under such a dispensation, indeed, there would probably be no lovers. The matter would be too tame. Albert did not probably bethink himself of a becoming disguise, as did Lydia—of an amiable ladder of ropes, of a conscious moon, or a Scotch parson;

for was it not true that the woman’s wickedness was known to them two, through her resolve not to injure those who had befriended her? But all this made the matter worse rather than better to him.

It is all very well to say, “No surrender;” but when the load placed upon the back is too heavy to be borne, the back must break or bend beneath it.

His load was too heavy to be borne, and therefore he said to himself that he would put it down. He would not again see Lord Alston and the old friends of former days.

Was he not as well born as they? was he not as fair a child? What did Rebekah do, Mrs. Orme? Did she not do worse; and did it not all go well with her?

Why should my boy be an Ishmael? Why should I be treated as the bondwoman, and see my little one perish of thirst in this world’s wilderness?

”

That he would have been greatly relieved could the whole thing have been wiped away from him there can be no manner of doubt; but I fancy that he would also have been disappointed.

It is much to be great for a day, even though the day’s greatness should cause the shipwreck of a whole life.

“I shall endeavour to speak the truth,” said John Kenneby, solemnly.

“Turnips indeed—and gritty!” said the mother. “Is it not a great thing to have bread and butter at all?” I own that my sympathies are with the child.

Bread and butter is a great thing; but I would have it of the best if that be possible.

After that Mr. Kantwise was allowed to dilate upon the subject which had brought him there. Mr. Dockwrath had been summoned to Bedford Row, and there had held a council of war together with Mr. Joseph Mason and Mr. Matthew Round.

“It’s not the juries, Aram. It’s the judges. It usedn’t to be so, but it is now. When a man has the last word, and will take the trouble to use it, that’s everything.

If I were asked what point I’d best like to have in my favour I’d say, a deaf judge.

Or if not that, one regularly tired out. I’ve sometimes thought I’d like to be a judge myself, merely to have the last word.”

But not the less did Graham recognise her claim. The very bonnet which she must wear when she stood before the altar with Fitzallen must be paid for out of Graham’s pocket.

That hobby of moulding a young lady is perhaps of all hobbies the most expensive to which a young gentleman can apply himself.

And in these days he heard no word from Noningsby. Augustus Staveley was up in town, and once or twice they saw each other. But, as may easily be imagined, nothing was said between them about Madeline.

But then he would think again of her pale face and acknowledge that this was impossible. He must go on till the end. But, nevertheless, if this young man could believe, would it not be well that he should bear the brunt of the battle?

That fighting of a battle without belief is, I think, the sorriest task which ever falls to the lot of any man.

But, as the day grew nigh, a shadow of unbelief, a dim passing shade—a shade which would pass, and then return, and then pass again—flitted also across the mind of Felix Graham.

“He must have been a fool,” my readers will say, “not to have known that Madeline was now his own.” Probably.

But then modest-minded young men are fools.

At last he contrived to bring the conversation round from the Birmingham congress to the affairs of his new client; and indeed he contrived to do so in spite of the judge, who was not particularly anxious to speak on the subject.

“

Fortune has done quite enough for you, Mr. Staveley; I do not advise you to tempt her any further.

”

As a consequence of her judicious conduct he was not indifferent.

We always want that which we can’t get easily.

Sophia had made herself difficult to be gotten, and therefore Augustus fancied that he wanted her. Since he had been in town he had been frequently in Harley Street, and had been arguing with himself on the matter.

The other thing was the better prize;—if only that affair about the Orley Farm were settled. Augustus Staveley was a good-looking handsome fellow, but then there was that in the manner and gait of Lucius Mason which better suited her taste.

There are ladies who prefer Worcester ware to real china; and, moreover, the order for the Worcester ware had already been given.

“Sophia, let a man be ever so lighthearted, there will come to him moments of absolute and almost terrible earnestness.”

“Yes, I do. He fought that battle just as if he was sure of winning, though he knew he was going to lose.

Give me the man that can fight a losing battle. Anybody can play whist with four by honours in his own hands.

”

“No it ain’t.

What’s the use of a man having an opinion if he won’t back it?

He’s bound to back it, or else he should give way, and confess he ain’t so sure about it as he said he was. There’s no coming to an end if you don’t do that.

“I don’t mean to be uncivil,” said the baron, “but of all words in the language there is none which I dislike so much as that word ventilation.

A man given to ventilating subjects is worse than a man who has a mission.

”

Aram again occupied the intermediate bench, so placing himself that he could communicate either with his client or with the barristers. These were now their established places, and great as was the crowd, they found no difficulty in reaching them.

An easy way is always made for the chief performers in a play.

This was to be the great day as regarded the evidence. “It is a case that depends altogether on evidence,” one young lawyer said to another. “If the counsel know how to handle the witnesses, I should say she is safe.”

Even to do this was difficult, for Kenneby would speak in a voice so low that nobody could hear him; and on the second occasion of the judge enjoining him to speak out, he nearly fainted.

It is odd that it never occurs to judges that a witness who is naturally timid will be made more so by being scolded.

When I hear a judge thus use his authority, I always wish that I had the power of forcing him to some very uncongenial employment—jumping in a sack, let us say;

He therefore soon gave that up. He had already given it up when he threatened to accuse her of perjury, and resolved that as he could not shake her he would shake the confidence which the jury might place in her.

He could not make a fool of her, and therefore he would make her out to be a rogue.

Her evidence would stand alone, or nearly alone;

But to some is given and to some is denied that cruse of heavenly balm with which all wounds can be assuaged and sore hearts ever relieved of some portion of their sorrow.

Of all the virtues with which man can endow himself surely none other is so odious as that justice which can teach itself to look down upon mercy almost as a vice!

“I will not ask you to forgive me,” she said, plaintively.

The attorneys had their seats and their big tables, and the somewhat familiar respect of the tipstaves. The jury, though not much to be envied, were addressed with respect and flattery, had their honourable seats, and were invariably at least called gentlemen.

But why should there be no seat of honour for the witnesses?

To stand in a box, to be bawled after by the police, to be scowled at and scolded by the judge, to be browbeaten and accused falsely by the barristers, and then to be condemned as perjurers by the jury—that is the fate of the …

… browbeaten and accused falsely by the barristers, and then to be condemned as perjurers by the jury—that is the fate of the one person who during the whole trial is perhaps entitled to the greatest respect, and is certainly entitled to the most public gratitude.

Let the witness have a big armchair, and a canopy over him, and a man behind him with a red cloak to do him honour and keep the flies off; let him be gently invited to come forward from some inner room where he can sit before a fire.

Then he will be able to speak out, making himself heard without scolding, and will perhaps be able to make a fair fight with the cocks who can crow so loudly on their own dunghills.

He had of course heard of Lady Mason’s acquittal; and indeed tidings of the decision to which the jury had come went through the country very quickly.

There is a telegraphic wire for such tidings which has been very long in use, and which, though always used, is as yet but very little understood.

How is it that information will spread itself quicker than men can travel, and make its way like water into all parts of the world? It was known all through the country that night that Lady Mason was acquitted;

“No; for the stolen property was still there. But yet how graceful she was, and how well her sorrows sat upon her!

What might she not have done had the world used her more kindly, and not sent in her way that sore temptation! She was a woman for a man to have loved to madness.

”

“I loved her.” And as the old man said so he rose to his feet with some show of his old energy. “I loved her—with all my heart!

It is foolish for an old man so to say; but I did love her; nay, I love her still.

But that I knew that it would be wrong—for your sake, and for Perry’s—” And then he stopped himself, as though he would fain hear what she might say to him.

And so in tears they parted for that night. But the sorrow that was bringing him to his grave came from the love of which he had spoken.

It is seldom that a young man may die from a broken heart; but if an old man have a heart still left to him, it is more fragile.

According to Moulder’s views it was a matter of course that a witness should be abused. For what other purpose was he had into the court? But deep in the mind of poor Kenneby himself the injurious words lay festering.

He had struggled hard to tell the truth, and in doing so had simply proved himself to be an ass.

“I ain’t fit to live with anybody else but myself,” he said to himself, as he walked down Bishopsgate Street.