CHAPTER XVII.

black between him and the sunshine. His father walking under the lime-trees which heart ached at the sight of the symbol most formed a kind of lateral aisle to the great sacred and most dear in the world. In an avenue, which was one of the boasts of the agony of grief and impatience he went away Wentworths. The squire was like most sadly through the familiar road to his father's squires of no particular character; a hale, house. Here had he to stand by and see this ruddy, clear-complexioned, well-preserved sacrifice accomplished. This was all that had man, looking his full age, but retaining all come of his mission of consolation and help. the vigor of his youth. He was not a man of any intellect to speak of, nor did he pretend to it; but he had that glimmering of sense which keeps many a stupid man straight, and a certain amount of natural sensibility and consideration for other people's feelings which made persons who knew no better give Mr. Wentworth credit for tact, a quality unknown to him. He was walking slowly in a perplexed manner under the lime-trees. They were all in glorious blossom, filling the air with that mingled sense of fragrance and music which is the soul of the murmurous tree; but the short figure of the squire, in his morning-coat, with his perplexed looks, was not at all an accessory in keeping with the scene. He was taking his walk in a subdued way, pondering something-and it puzzled him sorely in his straightforward, unprofound understanding. He shook his head sometimes as he went along, sad and perplexed and unsatisfactory, among his limes. He had got a note from Gerald that morning; and how his son could intend to give up living and station, and wife and children for anything in heaven or earth was more than the squire could understand. He started very much when he heard Frank's voice calling to him. Frank, indeed, was said to be, if any one was, the squire's weakness in the family; he was as clever as Gerald, and he had the practical sense which Mr. Wentworth prized as knowing himself to possess it. If he could have wished for any one in the present emergency, it would have been Frank—and he turned round overjoyed.

THE Curate of St. Roque's went sadly along the road he knew so well from Wentworth Rectory to the Hall. There was scarcely a tree nor the turning of a hedgerow which had not its own individual memories to the son of the soil. Here he had come to meet Gerald returning from Eton-coming back from the university in later days. Here he had rushed down to the old rector, his childless uncle, with the copy of the prize-list when his brother took his first-class. Gerald, and the family pride in him, was interwoven with the very path, and now- The young man pressed on to the hall with a certain bitter moisture stealing to the corner of his eye. He felt indignant and aggrieved in his love, not at Gerald, but at the causes which were conspiring to detach him from his natural sphere and duties. When he recollected how he had himself dallied with the same thoughts, he grew angry with his brother's nobleness and purity, which never could sce less than its highest ideal soul in anything, and with a certain fierce fit of truth, glanced back at his own Easter lilies and choristers, feeling involuntarily that he would like to tear off the flowers and surplices and tread them under his feet. Why was it that he, an inferior man, should be able to confine himself to the mere accessories which pleased his fancy, and could judge and reject the dangerous principles beneath; while Gerald, the loftier, purer intelligence, should get so hopelessly lost in mazes of sophistry and false argument, to the peril of his work, his life, and all that he could ever know of happiness? Such were the thoughts that passed through the mind of the Perpetual Curate as he went rapidly through the winding country-road going "home. Perhaps he was wrong in thinking that Gerald was thus superior to himself; but the error was a generous one, and the curate held it in simplicity and with all his heart.

Before he reached the house, he saw his

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Frank, my boy, you're heartily welcome home!" he said, holding out his hand to him as became a British parent-"always welcome, but particularly just now. Where did you come from? how did you come? have you eaten anything this morning? it's close upon lunch, and we'll go in directly; but, my dear boy, wait here a moment, if you're not particularly hungry; I can't tell you how glad I am you're come. I'd rather see you than a hundred pound!"

When Frank had thanked him, and returned

his greetings, and answered his questions up his mind that the Church of Rome is the (which the squire had forgotten), and made only true Church, and therefore he is in a his own inquiries, to which Mr. Wentworth false position in the Church of England: he replied only by a hasty nod, and an "Oh, yes, can't remain a priest of the Anglican comthank you, all well-all well," the two came munion with such views, any more than a to a momentary pause: they had nothing par-man could fight against his country, or in a ticular to add about their happiness in seeing wrong quarrel❞— each other; and as Frank wrote to his sisters pretty regularly, there was nothing to tell. They were quite free to plunge at once, as is to British relatives under the trying circumstances of a meeting a blessed possibility, into the first great subject which happened to be at hand.

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"But, good heavens, sir!" said the squire, interrupting him," is it a time to inquire into the quarrel when you're on the ground? Will you tell me, sir, that my son Charley should have gone into the question between Russia and England when he was before Sebastopol-and deserted," said Mr. Wentworth, with a sort of infinite scorn, "if he found the czar had right on his side? God bless my soul! That's striking at the root of everything. As for the Church of Rome, it's An

Frank, if you should preach to me for a year."

Have you heard anything about Gerald?" said Mr. Wentworth, abruptly; "perhaps you called there on your way from the station? Gerald has got into a nice mess. He wrote to tell me about it, and I can't make head tichrist—why, every child in the village school nor tail of it. Do you think he's a little could tell you that; and if Gerald entertains touched here?" and the squire tapped his any such absurd ideas, the thing for him to own round forehead, with a troubled look; do is to read up all that's been written on the "there's no other explanation possible that I subject, and get rid of his doubts as soon as can see a good living, a nice house, a wife possible. The short and the long of it is," that just suits him (and it's not everybody said the troubled squire, who found it much that would suit Gerald), and a lot of fine chil- the easiest way to be angry, "that you ask dren and he talks to me of giving up every-me to believe that your brother Gerald is a thing; as if a man could give up everything! fool and a coward; and I wont believe it, It's all very well talking of self-renunciation, and so forth; and if it meant simply considering other people, and doing anything disagreeable for anybody's sake, I don't know a man more likely than my son Gerald. Your brother's a fine fellow, Frank—a noble sort of fellow, though he has his crotchets," said the father, with a touch of involuntary pathos; "but you don't mean to tell me that my son, a man like Gerald Wentworth, has a mind to throw away his position, and give up the duties of this life? He can't do it, sir! I tell you it's impossible, and I wont believe it." Mr. Wentworth drew up his shirt col- "God bless my soul!" cried the bewillar, and kicked away a fallen branch with his dered squire—he was silent for a long time foot, and looked insulted and angry. It was after he had uttered that benediction. He a dereliction of which he would not suppose took out Gerald's letter and read it over the possibility of a Wentworth being guilty. while the two walked on in silence under It did not strike him as a conflict between the lime-trees, and the paper shook in belief and non-belief; but on the question of his hands, notwithstanding all his steadia man abandoning his post, whatever it might ness. When he spoke again, it was only be, the head of the house held strong views. after two or three efforts to clear his "I agree it's impossible; but it looks as voice. "I can't make out that he says that, if it were true," said the curate, "I don't Frank,-I don't see that that's what he understand it any more than you do; but I means," said Mr. Wentworth, in a fainter am afraid we shall have to address ourselves tone than usual; and then he continued, to the reality all the same. Gerald has made with more agitation, "Louisa is a dear good

"And for my part, I would stake my life on his wisdom and his courage," said the curate, with a little heat; "but that is not the question-he believes that truth and honor require him to leave his post. There is something more involved which we might yet prevent. I have been trying, but Louisa interrupted me-I don't know if you realize fully what he intends. Gerald cannot cease to be a priest-he will become a Catholic priest when he ccases to be Rector of Wentworth-and that implies—”

man,

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soul, you know; but she's a bit of a fool, in argument could never be named or like most women. She always takes the dreamed of in connection with Gerald," said worst view. If she can get a good cry his brother, with some emotion; out of anything, she will. It's she that's know that." put this fancy into your head, eh? You There was another pause of a few minutes, don't say that you had it from Gerald him- during which they walked on side by side self?-you don't mean to tell me that? By without even the heart to look at each other. Jove, sir!-by Heaven, sir!" cried the ex-"If it had been Plumstead, or Hawtray, or cited squire, blazing up suddenly in a burst any other fool," burst forth the squire, after of passion, "he can't be any son of mine that interval, "but Gerald!" Plumstead For any damnable Papistical madness to give was the husband of the eldest Miss Wentup his wife! Why, God bless us, he was a worth, and Hawtray was the squire's sister's man, wasn't he, before he became a priest! son, so the comparison was all in the family. A priest! He's not a priest-he's a clergy- "I suppose your Aunt Leonora would say and the Rector of Wentworth. I can't such a thing was sent to bring down my pride believe it-I wont believe it!" said the head and keep me low," said Mr. Wentworth, bitof the house, with vehemence. "Tell me terly. "Jack being what he is, was it anyone of my sons is a sneak and a traitor!- thing but natural that I should be proud of and if you weren't another of my sons, sir, Gerald? There never was any evil in him, I'd knock you down for your pains." In the that I could see, from a child; but crotchety, excitement of the moment Mr. Wentworth always crotchety, Frank. I can see it now. came full force against a projecting branch It must have been their mother," said the which he did not see, as he spoke these words; squire, meditatively; "she died very young, but though the sudden blow half stunned poor girl! her character was not formed. As him, he did not stop in his vehement contra- for your dear mother, my boy, she was aldiction. "It can't be. I tell you it can't ways equal to an emergency; she would have it sha'n't be, Frank!" cried the squire. He given us the best of advice, had she been would not pay any attention to the curate's spared to us this day. Mrs. Wentworth is anxieties, or accept the arm Frank offered, absorbed in her nursery, as is natural, and I though he could not deny feeling faint and should not care to consult her much on such giddy after the blow. It took away all the a subject. But, Frank, whatever you can do color from his ruddy face, and left him pale, or say, trust to me to back you out," said the with a red welt across his forehead, and won-anxious father of three families. "Your derfully unlike himself. "Confound it! I mother was the most sensible woman I ever told Miles to look after that tree weeks ago. knew," he continued, with a patriarchal If he thinks I'll stand his carelessness, he's composure. Nobody could ever manage mistaken!" said Mr. Wentworth, by way of Jack and Gerald as she did. She'd have seen relieving himself. He was a man who al- at a glance what to do now. As for Jack, ways eased his mind by being angry with he is no assistance to anybody; but I consomebody when anything happened to put sider you very like your mother, Frank. If him out. anybody can help Gerald, it will be you. He My dear father," said the curate, as soon has got into some ridiculous complication, as it was practicable, "I want you to listen you know-that must be the explanation of to me and help me; there's only one thing it. You have only to talk to him, and clear to be done that I can see. Gerald is in a up the whole affair," said the squire, recovstate of high excitement, fit for any martyr-ering himself a little. He believed in "talkdom. We can't keep him back from one ing to," like Louisa, and like most people sacrifice, but by all the force we can gather who are utterly incapable of talking to any we must detain him from the other. He purpose. He took some courage from the must be shown that he can't abandon his thought, and recovered his color a little. natural duties. He was a man before he was a priest, as you say; he can no more give up his duty to Louisa than he can give up his own life. It is going on a false idea altogether; but falsehood in anything except

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"There is the bell for luncheon, and I am very glad of it," he said; "a glass of sherry will set me all right. Don't say anything to alarm Mrs. Wentworth. When Gerald comes, we'll retire to the library, and go into the

matter calmly, and between us we will surely a sense of his own interests and cares. Gerald be able to convince him. I'll humor him, for was coming up the avenue at the moment my part, as far as my conscience will allow slowly, with all the feelings of a man going me. We must not give in to him, Frank. to the stake. He was looking at everything He will give it up if we show a very firm round as a dying man might, not knowing front and yield nothing?" said the squire, what terrible revolution of life might haplooking with an unusually anxious eye in his pen before he saw them again— son's face.

THE CASE OF THE PIRATES.

ernment, which would hasten to indemnify the owners of the cargo. There is no excep tion except in the case of contraband of war. for some reason or other the Dutch Govern"But let us go further. Let us admit that ment refuses to give satisfaction; reprisals would be immediately commenced, and our

THE French journals are discussing with their usual zeal and ability the question raised by a paragraph of the official organ, the Moniteur, whether the Florida, Alabama, and other vessels purporting to be commissioned by the rebel Government are men-of-vessels-of-war would receive orders to chase war or pirates. It is worthy of remark that Dutch vessels. Of course we cannot chase all the prints of liberal sentiments are decided the merchant-vessels of the South, that marin their expressions of the opinion that these itime State having no other navy than the vessels are nothing less than corsairs in the pirate ships constructed in English yards for the soi-disant Pacha of Egypt, King of Siam, eyes of international law, and as such deservor Emperor of China. But since one of these ing of condemnation at the hands of civilized pirate ships, the most criminal, as far as we nations. No one of them, however, argues are concerned, has come and constituted itself the question with more force than the Siécle, a guarantee for the depredations it has comfrom which we take this extract:— mitted, it ought to be seized and sold in order to indemnify those of our merchants whose "The official defenders of these acts of interests it has injured. The Florida a ship piracy pass by in silence the most important of war! The Alabama a ship of war! Why part of the matter. We reiterate the ques- a shot has never been fired from either of them tion we have several times put: Where are at an armed vessel. Jean Bart was a corsair; the decisions of the prize courts which have but he did not run away from the English authorized these Confederate skimmers of the flag. He fought it boldly, honestly, and did sea to appropriate the valuables found in the not burn the unarmed ships he met with. captured ships, and to set fire to those ships? We must seek in the most disgraceful pages A vessel of war only sinks the ship that re- of the history of buccaneering and the slave sists her; our officers, without any exception, trade for similar facts to those which have would be ashamed to seize private property, conferred upon the ships of the South their and our councils of war would infallibly con- deplorable notoriety. demn them if they were so unlucky as to forget the honor of their position in order to enrich themselves by pillage. We have said, and we maintain it, that in presence of the acts of piracy this ship has committed, in presence of the impossibility under which our Government finds itself placed of compelling the people who whip and sell negroes at Richmond to render justice to our merchants, international law authorizes the seizure and sale of this vessel, for the purpose of indemnifying those whom she has despoiled. "In order to ascertain the rights and the duties of neutrals in a matter of this kind, we need only ask what the Government would do if such infractions of the law of nations were committed by European powers. Let us suppose for an instant that Spain and Holland are at war; a Dutch ship captures a Spanish ship laden with a cargo on French account. In virtue of the principle recognized by all civilized nations, and according to which the hostile flag does not confiscate neutral merchandise, the Dutch Government would restore to our countrymen the cargo which belonged to them. But take a more serious case; the ship laden with the cargo has been sunk-for European fleets never burn-and the cargo is destroyed. This is an act of war, an admitted act of war. What would our Government do, however? It would immediately make a claim upon the Dutch Gov

"It is time, however, to put an end to their depredations, if maritime trade is to regain confidence, and feel that it is not deprived of all protection. Now, for instance, we find that a certificate of the French consul at Lima is not a sufficient guarantee for property, and that, in contempt of the official declaration of an accredited agent of our Government, the Alabama has just burned another ship with a French cargo on board. Have we had insult enough; Have we had enough outrages? For ourselves, we still think that the Florida ought not to be allowed to leave Brest until our commerce is indemnified. She is, we are told, the property of the Confederate States; let her pay the debts of those States."

A letter addressed to the Phare de la Loire

explains the reference above made to the notorious Alabama. The letter is from Captain Frost, of the American ship Express. He was bound, he says, from the Chincha Islands to Antwerp, with a cargo which was recognized and officially certified as neutral property by the French consul at Lima. The Express was nevertheless captured by the Alabama, was declared a lawful prize, notwithstanding the protestation of the captain and the certificate of the French consul, and was pillaged and burnt. This, perhaps, will not prevent the Moniteur," says the Siécle, "from telling us