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" It does not suit us to correct the misstatements of Cuffing ; and it does not suit us to let him have power over us—to leave him the opportunity some day of making his own corrections."

“We are quite willing to place him above temptation.”
“ You'll


him the ten thousand ?” “Yes; but we want a guarantee, as nations say to each other.” " Want a hold on him ?” “ Yes." “I've got it; been off and on devoting myself to that.

He's a forger and a thief. Do you remember a trial called the Higgleton will case ?

“I do not."

“It came to nothing for want of evidence; there was a will, produced by Cuffing, a year after search for a will had been made without success. Higgleton was à cousin of Cuffing's ; but while the trial was going on a second and later will was found, dated only a day after Cuffing's, and it was the genuine will. It was called “The Higgleton Romance.' They gave fuli reports in all the papers. Well

, a pal of mine had it in hand, but as the right people came in for the property they didn't care about going on with any prosecution of Cuffing, suspected of forging the first will, and it dropped through ; but my pal has given me all the facts and documents, and the witnesses are living and can be got at any time. Isn't that a hold on him?"

“Good enough, as they say in America."

“Well, as confessions and such like are the order of the day, he shall confess and swear an affidavit about his being confederate with Ransford if you like. You shall handle him how you please, and have his tooth out straight; and the best way will be to make me and the youngest partner in his lordship’s solicitors' firm trustees to a settlement upon him to be paid regularly according to his good behaviour.”

"Excellent; can we find him to-night?"

“Yes; he's moved—did it cleverly, I believe—but I know his new place. Shall we go at once?”

“Where do you propose to go at once?” asked Lord St. Barnard.

“We wish to call together on Mr. Simon Cuffing,” said Kalmat. “ We shall return soon.”

Lord St. Barnard shook Kalmat's hand. Mr. White took off his hat; and Lord St. Barnard sat down to write a long and loving letter to his wife.



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Ar Bow Street on Monday morning Mr. Holland, Q.C., made an eloquent speech, travelling over the leading features of the extraordinary case in which Lord St. Barnard, with the courage English nobleman and the earnestness of a good cause, had entered upon the prosecution of Philip Ransford, whose confession and death had brought the story of Lady Barnard's persecution to an end so far as this Court was concerned. Mr. Holland was glad to observe that the newspapers in discussing the case that day had all expressed the deepest sympathy with Lord St. Barnard and the warmest admiration for his wife, whom they could not sufficiently praise for her fortitude, or pity enough on account of the final breakdown of her physical strength under the weight of calumnies that might have overcome even Spartan fortitude. The Court would be glad to hear that the woman who attended Lady St. Barnard at Piccadilly during the night referred to in her ladyship's evidence was in court; and that other witnesses, if they had been required, were ready to come forward to substantiate the perfect innocence of his client, apart from the prisoner's confession. All this was now rendered unnecessary ; and it gave him great pleasure to inform the Bench that Lady St. Barnard was progressing favourably. She had safely passed through the delirious stages of brain fever, and it was a source of much happiness for Lord St. Barnard that one of the first inquiries this morning as to the state of her ladyship’s health came from Her Most Gracious Majesty, with a special message to his lordship. (Loud applause.)

Mr. Cuffing in a new coat, with a necktie embellishing a perfectly white collar, rose, and in solemn tones expressed his deep regret that it should ever have fallen to his professional lot to be engaged in a case that must have wounded so severely the nicest and most delicate sensibilities of a highly wrought and noble nature such as that of Lady St. Barnard. He need not remind Mr. Holland and his Worship on the bench that an advocate had only to consider the interests of his client. It was his duty to lay aside all private feeling ; but it was not his duty, if he knew it, to be a party to a wrong—to be, as it were, confederate with his client to perpetrate an injustice; and the moment he was made acquainted with the falsity of the charges made by his client, that moment he demanded restitution and atonement for the persecuted lady. In arranging this,

however, he had endeavoured to do so in a manner that would be the least injurious to his client; and it was a consolation to know that his conduct was approved by public opinion. (Applause.) He would not detain the Court. His explanation, made before the coroner at Longreach, was already in the papers, fully reported; and he had only to say in conclusion that nothing could be more ample than the confession which his unfortunate client had made, and was prepared to repeat in open court, if necessary, prior to his laying violent hands upon himself. His client was beyond further defence, the prosecution was above reproach, and he begged to thank the magistrate for his patience and forbearance during a most painful and cruel investigation.

The magistrate, ignoring both Mr. Holland and Mr. Cuffing, congratulated Lord St. Barnard upon the complete justification of the prosecution of the unfortunate man, and also upon that immediate recognition from the noblest lady in the land, who was a pattern to all classes, to all society, now and for all time.

During the day the Westminster Palace Hotel and Grassnook were besieged with callers. At night the cards on Lord St. Barnard's table at the hotel might have been counted by hundreds; while at Grassnook Mr. and Mrs. Breeze expressed such joy over supper in the servants' hall that Jeames was almost scandalised at their behaviour.

You had better go alone, Barnard,” said Kalmat, firmly, when the two friends parted that night at the Westminster Palace Hotel. “It is necessary that I and White should have a final interview with Cuffing, and then comes back peace to the house of St. Barnard."

“But when shall we meet again, my dear fellow? I cannot bear the idea of parting with you. I have not yet given up that suggestion of yours to live for some years out of England. Moreover, I”—

No, my dear friend,” said Kalmat, “it is not necessary now. Events have taken a turn which we did not anticipate. It was a selfish dream, too, that dream of mine, in which I saw you and her, and your children, in the Far West, with myself teaching your boys to hunt and shoot; a selfish, ill-considered plan. It would have been a mistake. Don't think of it. I will go back alone. I only am fit for that kind of existence which wants nothing from society, from the world.”

“My dear friend,” said his lordship, clasping Kalmat's hand. “You have conquered Society; your triumph has been great,

your justification is complete. Fate has been good to you at last."

“You were that Fate."

“Let that thought, so flattering to me, sink into your heart. Tell her I was by your side in the hour of danger, and I ask no greater reward. And think, my dear Barnard, how unfit a man who can be so satisfied must be for cities and civilisation. No; for the present we part here.

Some day we shall meet again. If we do not, we shall sympathise so strongly with each other in joy and sorrow that we shall know when we are happy, and feel each other's sadness. Do you believe in that kind of sympathy, a love, a regard that is electrical and travels as swiftly as lightning; that is not checked by space, by seas, by mountains; and does not come to an end even with death ?”

“I think I understand you,” said his lordship; “but I wish I could influence your decision ; I am sure it will be a great disappointment to my wife not to meet you again, not to thank you herself for all you have done for us."

“ Believe me, my decision is the wisest; say all that your kind heart may dictate about me. Telegraph me to-morrow how you find her; and the sooner you can bring her home to her children at Grassnook the better. Their sweet voices and the soothing calm of the Thames meadows will do more than all the doctors in the world to restore her to herself; and let me give you a last word or two of advice in the interest of our patient. When she has recovered consciousness she will look back upon the Bow Street persecution and its attendant circumstances as a dream. Encourage this until she is well and strong; it will aid her recovery.”

“You are the best and wisest fellow in the world,” said his lordship.

“Good bye,” said Kalmat; “it is time you were on your way.”

“I cannot say good bye,” said his lordship, with an undisguised expression of emotion; "say we are to meet again soon.” “Yes, soon.” And you

will keep me acquainted of your movements ?” “I will,” said Tom, with a responsive tremour in his voice.

“God bless you,” said St. Barnard, pressing his hand to his lips, “my dear, dear friend.”

And Kalmat stood alone. He sighed and wiped his eyes, which were wet with tears. “ It is best so,” he said, “it is best so.” VOL. XII. N.S., 1874.




Two years have elapsed since Kalmat and Lord St. Barnard parted at the Westminster Palace Hotel.

The early part of the time was full of pain and anxiety for St. Barnard. It was some months before his wife came out of that serious illness. The summer and the autumn were spent at Boulogne; but Clytie recovered in the midst of her little family. The children were sent for; and a house was taken overlooking the bay. Here, as consciousness and strength returned, the true memory of things came back. There are illnesses which blot out the past, and Lord St. Barnard cherished a faint hope that there might be blanks in his wife's memory; but it all came back to her, the time before she was taken ill; it came back by degrees like a returning tide, until at last it had filled all the little niches in memory's temple, and the past was complete.

Then his lordship had to tell the story in his way, with special annotations; then he had to read extracts from the newspapers, and show her how her innocence had been established, not in his eyes, for that were unnecessary-but in the opinion of the public.

It was not true, of course, that everybody believed in the honesty of the lady of Grassnook. Half a dozen hags of Dunelm gossiped adversely about her at Dunelm; but they were the representatives of the proverb about “old maids and mustard," and they must have some sort of revenge for their spinsterial misery-and so they may pass. London Society of course recanted all it had said ; not with the confession and suicide of Ransford, but with the gracious message from the Court, with the restoration of Lord St. Barnard, not exactly in his former position, but with still higher distinction. Wyldenberg and Barrington, and the gutter-tribe in morals who associated with them, still talked at their monkey-clubs of the days of the Delphos Theatre and the rehearsals of Miss Pitt. The jealous and envious, the immoral, the scandal-mongers, the disappointed, and the general mongrels of the world shook their heads and winked their bleary eyes; but it is better to have the ill-opinion of curs and sneaks and things that crawl and creep than to be praised by them. Fancy Caliban talking of his "friend ” Prospero and saying pleasant things of Miranda !

Clytie had some sad thoughts in her mind about this wretched

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