FRANK OSBALDISTONE had come back from France to quarrel with his father.
A merchant he would not be. He hated the three-legged stool, and he used
the counting-house quills to write verses with.
His four years in Bordeaux had spoiled him for strict business, without
teaching him anything else practical enough to please his father, who,
when he found that his son persisted in declining the stool in the dark
counting-room in Crane Alley, packed him off to the care of his brother,
Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone of Osbaldistone Hall in Northumberland,
there to repent of his disobedience.
"I will have no idlers about me," he said, "I will not ask even my own
son twice to be my friend and my partner. One of my nephews shall take
the place in the firm which you have declined."
And old Mr. Osbaldistone, of the firm of Osbaldistone and Tresham,
merchants in London town, being above all things a man of his word,
Master Frank took to the North Road accordingly, an exile from his home
and disinherited of his patrimony.
At first he was gloomy enough. He was leaving behind him wealth, ease,
society. As he looked back from the heights of Highgate, the bells of
the city steeples rang out their "Turn again, Whittington!" And to tell
the truth, Frank Osbaldistone felt half inclined to obey. But the
thought of his father's grave scorn held him to his purpose, and soon
the delights of travel and the quickly changing scene chased the sadness
from his heart. Indeed, as was natural to a young man, a good horse
under his thigh and fifty guineas in his pocket helped amazingly to put
him in the best humour with himself.
The company Frank met with on the North Road was commonplace and dull.
But one poor man, a sort of army officer in a gold-laced hat, whose
martial courage was more than doubtful, amused Frank Osbaldistone by
clinging desperately to a small but apparently very heavy portmanteau,
which he carried on the pillion before him, never parting from it for a
moment. This man's talk was all of well-dressed highwaymen, whose
conversation and manners induced the unwary to join company with them.
Then in some shady dell whistling up their men, the unlucky traveller
found himself despoiled--of his goods certainly, perhaps also of his
life.
It delighted Frank's boyish humour beyond measure to play upon the fears
of this gallant King's officer--which he proceeded to do by asking him
first whether his bag were heavy or not, then by hinting that he would
like to be informed as to his route, and finally by offering to take the
bag on his own pillion and race him with the added weight to the nearest
village.
This last audacious proposal almost took the man's breath away, and from
that moment he was convinced that Frank was none other than the "Golden
Farmer" himself in disguise.
At Darlington, the landlord of their inn introduced a Scotch cattle
dealer, a certain Mr. Campbell, to share their meal. He was a
stern-faced, dark-complexioned man, with a martial countenance and an
air of instinctive command which took possession of the company at once.
The lawyer, the doctor, the clergyman, even Frank himself, found
themselves listening with deference to the words of this plainly
dressed, unobtrusive, Scottish drover. As for the man with the weighty
bag, he fairly hung upon his words. And especially so when the landlord
informed the company that Mr. Campbell had with his own hand beaten off
seven highwaymen.
"Thou art deceived, friend Jonathan," said the Scot, "they were but two,
and as beggarly loons as man could wish to meet withal!"
"Upon my word, sir," cried Morris, for that was the name of the man with
the portmanteau, edging himself nearer to Mr. Campbell, "really and
actually did you beat two highwaymen with your own hand?"
"In troth I did, sir," said Campbell, "and I think it nae great thing to
mak' a sang about."
"Upon my word, sir," said Morris, eagerly, "I go northward, sir--I
should be happy to have the pleasure of your company on my journey."
And, in spite of short answers, he continued to press his proposal upon
the unwilling Scot, till Campbell had very unceremoniously to extricate
himself from his grip, telling him that he was travelling upon his own
private business, and that he could not unite himself to any stranger on
the public highway.
The next day Frank approached Osbaldistone Hall, which stood under the
great rounded range of the Cheviot Hills. He could already see it
standing, stark and grey, among its ancestral oaks, when down the ravine
streamed a band of huntsmen in full chase, the fox going wearily before,
evidently near the end of his tether. Among the rout and nearer to Frank
than the others, owing to some roughness of the ground, rode a young
lady in a man's coat and hat--which, with her vest and skirt, made the
first riding-habit Frank had ever seen.
The girl's cheeks were bright with the exercise. Her singular beauty was
the more remarkable, chanced upon in so savage a scene. And when, after
hearing the "Whoop--dead!" which told of poor Reynard's decease, she
paused to tie up her loosened locks, Master Frank stared most
undisguisedly and even impolitely.
One of the young huntsmen, clad in red and green, rode towards her,
waving the brush in his hand as if in triumph over the girl.
"I see," she replied, "I see. But make no noise about it. If Phoebe
here (patting the neck of her mare) had not got among the cliffs, _you_
would have had little cause for boasting."
Then the two of them looked at Frank and spoke together in a low tone.
The young man seemed sheepishly to decline some proposal which the girl
made to him.
"Then if you won't, Thornie," she said at last, "I must."
And turning to Frank she asked him if he had seen anything of a friend
of theirs, one Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, who for some days past had been
expected at the Hall.
Frank instantly and gladly claimed kindred.
"Then," said the girl, smiling, "as this young man's politeness seems to
have fallen asleep, I must e'en be master of the ceremonies, however
improper it may be. So I beg to present to you young Squire Thorncliff
Osbaldistone, your cousin, and Die Vernon, your accomplished cousin's
poor kinswoman."
The "accomplished cousin" finally decided to shake hands with mingled
awkwardness and an assumption of sulky indifference. This being done, he
immediately announced his intention of going to help the huntsmen couple
up the hounds, and so he took himself off.
"There he goes," said the young lady, following him with disdainful
eyes, "the prince of grooms and cock-fighters and blackguard
horse-racers. But truly there is not one of them to mend another!"
She turned sharply upon Frank.
"Have you read Markham?" she demanded.
Poor Frank had never even heard of that author. The girl held up her
hands in horror.
"Never to have heard of Markham--the Koran of this savage tribe--the
most celebrated author on farriery!" she cried. "Then I fear you are
equally a stranger to the more modern names of Gibson and Bartlett?"
"I am, indeed, Miss Vernon," answered Frank, meekly.
"And do you not blush to own it?" she cried. "Why, we will disown the
alliance. Then I suppose you can neither give a ball, nor a mash, nor a
horn?"
"I confess," said Frank, "I trust all these matters to my groom."
"Incredible carelessness!" she continued. "What was your father thinking
of? And you cannot shoe a horse, or cut his mane and tail. Or worm a
dog, or crop his ears, or cut his dew-claws; or reclaim a hawk or give
him casting-stones, or direct his diet when he is sealed! Or--"
Frank could only once for all profess his utter ignorance of all such
accomplishments.
"Then in the name of Heaven, Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, what _can_ you
do?"
"Very little to the purpose, I am afraid, Miss Vernon," answered Frank;
"only this--when my groom has dressed my horse I can ride him, and when
my hawk is in the field, I can fly him."
"Can you do this?" said Die Vernon, setting her horse to a rude gate
composed of pieces of wood from the forest, and clearing it at a bound.
In a moment Frank was at her side.
"There are hopes for you yet," she said. "I was afraid that you were a
very degenerate Osbaldistone. But what brings you to Cub Hall? I suppose
you could have stayed away if you had liked?"
"The Cubs of the Hall may be as you describe them," said Frank, looking
at his companion, "but I am convinced there is one exception that will
make amends for all their deficiencies."
"Oh, you mean Rashleigh!" said Die Vernon.
"Indeed, I do not," said Frank, who had not been four years in France
for nothing, "I never even heard of Rashleigh. I mean some one very much
nearer me."
"I suppose I should pretend not to understand you," she answered, "but
that is not my way. If I were not in the saddle, I would make you a
courtesy. But seriously, I deserve your exception, for besides Rashleigh
and the old priest, I am the only conversable being about Osbaldistone
Hall."
"And who, for Heaven's sake, is Rashleigh?"
"Your youngest cousin, about your own age, but not so--so well-looking.
Full of natural sense--learned, as being bred to the church, but in no
hurry to take orders--and in addition by all odds the cleverest man in a
country where such are scarce."
They rode back to the Hall, but as it was some time before Frank could
get any one to attend to his own horse and Diana's mare, which she had
left in his charge, he had time to look about him and take in the old
castle and its rough, wasteful prodigality of service. By and by,
however, there arrived Sir Hildebrand, who, among his sons, seemed, by
comparison at least, both intelligent and a gentleman. He gave Frank a
rough but hearty welcome to his mansion.
"Art welcome, lad!" he said. "I would have seen thee before but had to
attend to the kennelling of the hounds. So thy father has thought on the
old Hall and old Sir Hildebrand at last! Well, better late than never!
Here are thy cousins--Percie, Thornie, John, Dick, and Wilfred. But
where's Rashleigh? Ay, here's Rashleigh! Take thy long body aside,
Thornie, and let's see thy brother a bit. And here's my little Die, my
sister's daughter, the prettiest girl on our dales, be the next who she
may. And so now let's to the sirloin!"
The five elder brethren of Osbaldistone Hall were all cast in one
mould--tall, well-formed, athletic men, but dull of feature and
expression, and seemingly without any intellect whatever. Rashleigh, the
youngest, was the exact opposite of his brethren. Short in stature,
thick-set, and with a curious halt in his gait, there was something
about his dark irregular features--something evil, relentless, and
cruel, which even the assumed gentleness of his words and the melody of
his voice could not hide. His brothers were mere oafs in learning, none
of whom ever looked at printed paper save to make a fly-book of it. But
Rashleigh was learned, and, when he pleased, of manners exquisitely
refined.
It was, however, Miss Diana who really introduced Frank to his cousins,
and the ceremony took place that day at dinner, while the young men were
devoting themselves heartily to the meat which they piled up on their
platters. The clatter of knives and forks covered her voice.
"Your cousins," she said, "taken all together, form a happy compound of
the sot, the gamekeeper, the bully, the horse-jockey, and the fool. But
as no two leaves off the same tree are quite exactly alike, so these
ingredients are differently mingled in your kinsmen. Percie, the son and
heir, has more of the sot than of the gamekeeper, bully, horse-jockey,
or fool. My precious Thornie is more of the bully--John, who sleeps
whole weeks among the hills, has most of the gamekeeper. The jockey is
powerful with Dickon, who rides two hundred miles by day and night, to
be bought and sold himself at a race-meeting. And the fool so
predominates over Wilfred's other characteristics that he may be termed
a fool positive."
Though Frank pressed her, Die Vernon refused to add Sir Hildebrand to
her gallery of family portraits.
"I owe him some kindnesses," she said, "or what at least were meant for
such. And besides, I like him. You will be able to draw his picture
yourself when you know him better."
Having once before been successful with a compliment, when talking to
his beautiful companion, Frank now summoned his French breeding and
tried a second. He had been silent for a minute, and Miss Vernon,
turning her dark eyes on him, had said with her usual careless
frankness, "You are thinking of me!"
"How is it possible," answered Master Frank, "that I should think of
anything else, seated where I have the happiness to be."
But Diana only smiled with a kind of haughty scorn, and replied, "I must
tell you at once, Mr. Osbaldistone, that your pretty sayings are wholly
lost on me. Keep them for the other maids whom you will meet here in the
north. There are plenty who will thank you for them. As for me, I happen
to know their value. Come, be sensible! Why, because she is dressed in
silk and gauze, should you think that you are compelled to unload your
stale compliments on every unfortunate girl? Try to forget my sex. Call
me Tom Vernon. Speak to me as to a friend and companion, and you have no
idea how much I shall like you."
Frank's expression of amazement at these words egged on Diana to
further feats of daring.
"But do not misjudge me," she said, "as I see you are likely to do. You
are inclined to think me a strange bold girl, half coquette, half romp,
desirous, perhaps, of storming you into admiration. You never were more
mistaken. I would show as much favour to your father, as readily make
_him_ my confidant, if he were here--and if I thought he were capable of
understanding me. The truth is, I must speak of these things to some one
or die."
Frank changed the subject. "Will you not add Rashleigh to the family
gallery?" he said.
"No, no," she said hastily, "it is never safe to speak of Rashleigh--no,
not even when, as you now think, he has left the table. Do not be too
sure even of that--and when you speak of Rashleigh Osbaldistone, get up
to the top of Otterscope Hill, stand on the very peak, and speak in
whispers. And, after all, do not be too sure that a bird of the air may
not carry the matter. Rashleigh was my tutor for four years. We are
mutually tired of each other, and we shall heartily rejoice to be
separated!"
Nevertheless Rashleigh it was who had been selected in full family
conclave to take Frank's empty stool in the counting-house of
Osbaldistone, Tresham and Company in Crane Alley. Indeed, there was no
choice. His brothers were incapable even of the multiplication table.
Besides, they wished him away, with the feelings of mice who hear that
the family cat is going off to fill another situation. Even his father,
who stood no little in awe of his clever son, breathed more freely at
the thought of Osbaldistone Hall without Rashleigh.
It was not long before Mr. Frank Osbaldistone had a taste of his cousin
Rashleigh's quality. The very next morning his uncle and cousins looked
at him curiously when he came down early. Sir Hildebrand even quoted a
rhyme for his benefit,
"He that gallops his horse on Blackstone Edge,
May chance to catch a fall."
It was a fox-hunting morning, and during a long run Frank sustained his
character as a good and daring rider, to the admiration of Diana and Sir
Hildebrand, and to the secret disappointment of his other kind
kinsfolk, who had prophesied that he would certainly "be off at the
first burst," chiefly for the reason that he had a queer, outlandish
binding round his hat.
It was plain that Diana wanted to speak with him apart, but the close
attendance of Cousin Thornie for some time made this impossible. That
loutish youth's persistence finally fretted the girl, and having been
accustomed all her life to ride the straightest way to her desire, she
bade him be off to see that the earths above Woolverton Mill were duly
stopped.
After some objections Thornie was got safely out of the road, and Diana
led the way to a little hill whence there was a fine view in every
direction. She pointed, as Frank thought, somewhat significantly to the
north.
"Yonder whitish speck is Hawkesmore Crag in Scotland," she said, "the
distance is hardly eighteen miles, as the crow flies. Your horse will
carry you there in two hours--and I will lend you my mare if you think
her less blown."
"But," said Frank, quite mystified, "I have so little wish to be in
Scotland, that if my horse's head were in Scotland, I would not give his
tail the trouble of following. What should I do in Scotland, Miss
Vernon?"
"Why, provide for your safety--do you understand me now, Mr. Frank?"
"Less than ever, Miss Vernon," he answered. "I have not the most distant
conception of what you mean."
"Why, then," said Diana, "to be plain, there is an information lodged
with our nearest Justice of the Peace, Squire Inglewood, that you were
concerned in a robbery of government papers and money sent to pay the
troops in Scotland. A man with whom you travelled, and whom you
certainly frightened, has lodged such a complaint against you. His name
is Morris."
"Morris has been robbed?"
"Ay," said Diana, "and he swears you are the man who robbed him."
"Then Sir Hildebrand believes it?" cried Frank.
"He does," answered Diana, "and to tell the truth, so did I until this
moment."
"Upon my word, I am obliged to you and my uncle for your opinion of me."
"Oh, it is nothing to be ashamed of," she said, smiling, "no mere
highway robbery. The man was a government messenger. We are all
Jacobites about here, and no man would have thought the worse of you for
bidding him stand and deliver. Why, my uncle had a message from Squire
Inglewood himself, that he had better provide for your safety by
smuggling you over the border into Scotland."
"Tell me," said Frank, somewhat impatiently, "where does this Squire
Inglewood live? I will go and answer the charge instantly and in
person."
"Well said--I will go with you," said Diana, promptly, "it was never the
Vernon way to desert a friend in time of need."
Frank tried to dissuade her from this, but he could not combat the
girl's resolution. So they set off together for Inglewood Hall. As they
entered the courtyard, they met Rashleigh just coming out.
Miss Vernon instantly challenged him, before he got time to make up a
story.
"Rashleigh," she said, "you have heard of Mr. Frank's affair, and you
have been over to the Justice talking about it."
But Rashleigh was equally ready.
"Certainly," he answered, "I have been endeavouring to render my cousin
what service I could. But at the same time I am sorry to meet him here."
"As a friend and kinsman, Mr. Osbaldistone," said Frank, "you should
have been sorry to meet me anywhere else but where my character is at
stake, and where it is my intention to clear it."
However, it was evidently not Miss Vernon's purpose to quarrel with
Rashleigh at that time. She led him apart, and began talking to him--at
first quietly, then with obvious anger. From her manner she was charging
him with knowing who had really committed the robbery, and pressing upon
him in some way to make plain his cousin's innocence. He resisted long,
but at length gave way.
"Very well, then," he said, "you are a tyrant, Diana. Still, it shall be
as you desire. But you know that you ought not to be here. You must
return with me at once!"
"I will do no such thing," said the girl; "not a foot will I go back
till such time as I see Frank well out of the hands of the Philistines.
He has been bidding me to go back all the time, himself. But I know
better. Also, I know you, my cousin Rashleigh, and my being here will
give you a stronger motive to be speedy in performing your promise."
Rashleigh departed in great anger at her obstinacy, and Frank and Die
together sought the den of the Justice, to which they were guided by a
high voice chanting the fag-end of an old bottle-song:
"Oh, in Skipton-in-Craven
Is never a haven
But many a day foul weather,
And he that would say
A pretty girl nay
I wish for his cravat a tether."
"Hey day," said Die Vernon, "the genial Justice must have dined
already--I did not think it had been so late."
As Diana had supposed, the Justice had dined. But though both his clerk
Jobson and Frank's accuser Morris were with him, he showed himself as
pleased to see Diana as he was evidently disinclined for all further
legal business.
"Ah, ha, Die Vernon," he cried, starting up with great alacrity, "the
heath-bell of Cheviot and the blossom of the border, come to see how the
old bachelor keeps house? Art welcome, girl, as the flowers in May!"
Miss Vernon told him that on this occasion she could not stay. She had
had a long ride that morning, and she must return at once. But if he
were a good kind Justice, he would immediately despatch young Frank's
business and let them go.
This the "good Justice" was very willing to do, but Clerk Jobson, alert
in his office, pressed that the law should have its course, while Frank
himself demanded no better than that the mystery should be cleared up
once and for all.
Whereupon the man who had been robbed repeated his statement. He had, it
seemed, been first of all terrified by Frank's antics. And then on the
open moor, when he had found himself stopped, and relieved of his
portmanteau by two masked men, he had distinctly heard the name
"Osbaldistone" applied by one of his assailants in speaking to the
other. He furthermore certified that all the Osbaldistones had been
Papists and Jacobites from the time of William the Conquerer. From which
it was clear that Frank was the guilty man!
Frank replied that it was true that, like a foolish, gamesome youth, he
had certainly practised somewhat on the fears of the man Morris, but
that he had never seen him since he parted from him at Darlington, and
that, far from being a Papist and a Jacobite, he could easily prove that
he had been brought up in the strictest school of Presbyterianism and in
full obedience to the government of King George.
Clerk Jobson, however, was sharp enough to turn Frank's admissions
against him, and said that since he had voluntarily assumed the
behaviour of a robber or malefactor, he had by that very act brought
himself within the penalties of the law.
But at this moment a letter was handed to the Clerk, which informed him
that a certain old Gaffer Rutledge was at the point of death, and that
he, Clerk Jobson, must go immediately to his house in order to settle
all his worldly affairs.
The clerk, after offering to make out the warrant of commitment before
setting out, at last, and with great reluctance, rode away. Then the
Justice, who evidently still fully believed in Frank's guilt, counselled
him as a friend to let bygones be bygones, and to give Mr. Morris back
his portmanteau. Frank had hardly time to be indignant at this when a
servant announced--"A stranger to wait upon the Justice!"
"A stranger!" echoed the Justice, in very bad temper; "not upon
business, or I'll--" But his protestation was cut short by the entrance
of the stranger himself, and by the stern deep voice of Mr. Campbell,
who immediately produced his usual effect upon Squire Inglewood.
"My business is peculiar," said the Scot, "and I ask your Honour to give
it your most instant consideration."
Then Mr. Campbell turned on Morris such a look of ferocity that it made
that valiant gentleman shake visibly from head to foot.
"I believe you cannot have forgotten what passed between us at our last
meeting," he said, "and you can bear me witness to the Justice that I am
a man of fortune and honour. You will be some time resident in my
vicinity, and you know it will be in my power to do as much for you.
Speak out, man, and do not sit there chattering your jaws like a pair of
castanets."
At last an answer was extracted from the trembling Mr. Morris, but with
as much difficulty as if it had been a tooth.
"Sir--sir--," he stammered, "yes--I do believe you to be a man of
fortune and of honour--I do believe it!"
"Then," said Campbell, "you will bear me witness that I was in your
company when the valise was stolen, but did not think fit to interfere,
the affair being none of mine. Further you will tell the Justice that no
man is better qualified than I to bear testimony in this case."
"No man better qualified, certainly," assented Morris, with a heavy
sigh. In order to prove his character, Mr. Campbell put into the hands
of Justice Inglewood a certificate given under the seal and in the
handwriting of the great Duke of Argyle himself. The Justice, who had
stood by the Duke in 1714, was duly impressed, and told the Scot that
his additional testimonial was perfectly satisfactory.
"And now," he added, "what have you to say about this robbery?"
"Briefly this," said Mr. Campbell, "the robber for whom Mr. Morris took
Mr. Osbaldistone was both a shorter and a thicker man. More than that, I
saw under the false face he wore, when it slipped aside, that his
features were altogether different!"
Between terror and the determined attitude of Campbell, Morris was soon
forced to withdraw his information against Frank, and the Justice, glad
to be rid of so troublesome a case, instantly threw the papers into the
fire.
"You are now at perfect liberty, Mr. Osbaldistone," said Squire
Inglewood, "and you, Mr. Morris, are set quite at your ease."
In spite of this Mr. Morris did not seem exactly comfortable, especially
as Mr. Campbell expressed his intention of accompanying him to the next
highway, telling him that he would be as safe in his company as in his
father's kailyard.
"Zounds, sir," he said as they went out, "that a chield with such a
black beard should have no more heart than a hen-partridge. Come on wi'
ye, like a frank fellow, once and for all!"
The voices died away, the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard, and after
a few kindly words from the Justice, Diana and Frank set out on their
way home. On the road they met Clerk Jobson returning in great haste and
in a most villanous temper. The will-making, even the illness of Gaffer
Rutledge, had proved to be a "bam," that is to say, a hoax. The clerk's
language became so impertinent towards Miss Vernon, that, if she had not
prevented him, Frank would certainly have broken the rascal's head.
The revel was in full swing at Osbaldistone Hall when they returned. So
for the sake of peace Diana ordered some dinner to be brought to them in
the library. This was a large neglected room, walled about with great
books, into which hardly any of the Osbaldistones ever came, and which
accordingly Diana had appropriated as her peculiar sanctum.
To this chamber Rashleigh Osbaldistone penetrated after dinner had been
removed. He came to explain the events of the day, but except that he
had met Campbell by chance, and that, having learned that he had been an
eye-witness to the robbery, he had sent him on to Squire Inglewood's,
there was not much more that he seemed inclined to reveal.
Afterwards, however, in his own room, Rashleigh became more
communicative. He desired to know what kind of man Frank's father was,
with whom in future he was to be placed. And in return for this
information he told Frank what he wished to know as to Diana Vernon. She
was, said Rashleigh, to marry Thorncliff, according to a family compact
of long standing. But he intimated in addition that she would greatly
have preferred himself, and that, indeed, he had withdrawn from the care
of her studies on account of the too evident affection she had begun to
show towards one, who, as a son of the church, was destined never to
marry.
This information rankled in Frank's mind, and all the next day he was
sullen and even brutal in his manner towards Miss Vernon. But she did
not grow angry, and merely left him to fill up the measure of his
folly--which he presently did by an affray with Rashleigh and his other
cousins over the wine-cups in the evening, in which swords were drawn
and blows given.
The next morning, however, Miss Vernon called him to account.
"Upon my word, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone," she said, seating herself in
one of the great chairs in the library, like a judge upon the bench,
"your character improves upon us. Last night's performance was a
masterpiece. You contrived to exhibit in the course of one evening all
the various qualifications of your several cousins--the gentle and
generous temper of Rashleigh, the temperance of Percie, the cool courage
of Thorncliff, John's skill in dog-breaking, Dickon's aptitude for
betting--all these were exhibited by the same Mr. Francis, and with a
choice of time and place worthy of the taste and sagacity of Wilfred."
Frank expressed his shame and sorrow as best he could. He had been
troubled, he said, by some information that he had received.
Instantly Miss Vernon took him up.
"And now," she said, "please tell me instantly what it was that
Rashleigh said of me--I have a right to know and know I will!"
It was some time before Frank could bring himself to tell Diana what her
cousin had really hinted concerning herself, and when she heard that he
had affirmed her wish to marry him in preference to Thorncliff, she
shuddered from head to foot.
"No," she cried, all her soul instantly on fire, "any lot rather than
that--the sot, the gambler, the bully, the jockey, the insensate fool
were a thousand times preferable to Rashleigh! But the convent, the
jail--the grave--shall be welcome before them all!"