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TELEVISION FIELD
PRODUCTION AND
REPOR TING
Television Field Production and Reporting provides a comprehensive introduction to the art of
video storytelling. Endorsed by the National Press Photographers Association, this book focuses
on the many techniques and tools available in today’s digital landscape, including how drones
and miniaturized technology can enrich the storytelling process. The new edition of Television
Field Production and Reporting is an absolute must in this visually oriented, rapidly changing
field. At its core, visual storytelling helps transmit information, expose people to one another,
and capture and communicate a sense of experience in unforgettable ways. This edition
reflects, through practitioners’ eyes, how to achieve those goals and excel as a professional,
whatever the medium at hand, even as changing technology revises the storyteller’s toolkit.
This edition emphasizes digital and emerging media, and includes new color photography
relevant to contemporary visual storytelling and reporting. It also features important updates
regarding digital media law which affect anyone who records and/or disseminates digital media
content, whether in private, on television, the web, via social networking sites, or in commercial
venues.

The seventh edition of Television Field Production and Reporting stresses the mastery of
innovative storytelling practices in video programming as far ranging as electronic press kits,
multi-camera production, stylized programs, corporate video, raw documentaries, and real time
cinéma vérité.

Fred Shook’s professional experience encompasses television reporting, production, writing,

photojournalism, and video editing. He has taught at university level and worked nationally and
internationally as a television producer, consultant, writer, director, and editor for commercial
television, corporations, and government agencies. Shook is a National Television Academy
Silver Circle Member for significant contributions to television over at least twenty-five
years. He received a Rocky Mountain Emmy Nomination for writing, and the National Press
Photographers Association’s Robin F. Garland “Outstanding National Educator” award. He also
is a recipient of the NPPA’s J. Winton Lemen National Fellowship Award for his contributions
to television photojournalism. He has written The Process of Electronic News Gathering;
Television News Writing: Captivating an Audience; and Television Field Production and
Reporting, ed. 1–4, and is lead author on ed. 5–7.
John Larson is recognized as one of the nation’s best storytelling reporters. He’s excelled in
national and local investigative, breaking, and feature reporting. Larson reports and produces
stories for PBS NewsHour, and is a former Dateline NBC correspondent. He also serves as
a consultant to hundreds of journalists, and works internationally as a Video Journalist who
does it all. His powerful writing has made him a sought-after speaker, teacher, and motivator at
workshops and newsrooms across the country. He’s earned multiple DuPont Columbia awards
– arguably broadcasting’s Pulitzer Prize, as well as multiple Peabody’s and National Emmys.
His award winning work has taken him around the world – investigating drug cartels in Mexico,
the sinking of a ferry in Indonesia, police corruption in Louisiana, HIV/Aids in Africa, death of
undocumented immigrants at the hands of the US Border Patrol, racial profiling in the United
States, and many others. His investigation of the insurance industry for Dateline NBC became
one of the most honored works of journalism in broadcast history. Before going to the network,
Larson spent eight years at KOMO-TV in Seattle, Washington.

John DeTarsio is Director and Director of Photography for scripted and non-scripted episodic
TV, documentaries, and magazine shows. As Director/DP of the MTV hit series, Catfish, he
helped design the look of the TV series and has been with the show since its inception. His
body of work encompasses highly-stylized shows, from the raw documentary look of MTV’s
Catfish, CBS 48 Hours and MTV’s Suspect, to the premier network magazine show, CBS 60
Minutes, to multi-camera productions (Coming Home, Lifetime, and Kid Nation, CBS). John has
worked for five news stations as photographer, editor, and on-air reporter. At KNSD 7/39 San
Diego, he became Executive Producer of Creative Development, before becoming a freelance
network photographer and consultant. As a consultant (www.johndetarsio.com/), he works with
national and international television photographers, editors, reporters, and managers, sharing his
passion for visual storytelling. His awards include NPPA National Photographer of the Year, the
national Iris Award, six national NPPA awards, and forty-six regional Emmys. In addition to
twenty-eight San Diego Press Club Awards and nine Golden Mic Awards, he also has received
more than fifty regional NPPA Awards.
TELEVISION FIELD
PRODUCTION AND
REPOR TING
Seventh Edition

FRED SHOOK

JOHN LARSON

JOHN DETARSIO
First published 2018
by Routledge
711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017
and by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2018 Taylor & Francis
The right of Fred Shook, John Larson and John DeTarsio to be identified
as the authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with
sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or
utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now
known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any
information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from
the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or
registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation
without intent to infringe.
First edition published by Pearson Education Inc. 2000
Sixth edition published by Focal Press 2007
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Names: Shook, Frederick author. | Larson, John, 1953- author. | DeTarsio,
John author.
Title: Television field production and reporting / Fred Shook, John Larson,
John DeTarsio.
Description: Seventh edition. | New York, NY : Routledge, 2017.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016054593| ISBN 9780415787659 (hardback) |
ISBN 9780415787666 (pbk.)
Subjects: LCSH: Television broadcasting of news. | Television—
Production and direction.
Classification: LCC PN4784.T4 S53 2017 | DDC 070.1—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016054593

ISBN: 978-0-415-78765-9 (hbk)

ISBN: 978-0-415-78766-6 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-315-22580-7 (ebk)

Typeset in Univers
by Keystroke, Neville Lodge, Tettenhall, Wolverhampton

A VALUABLE RESOURCE
For video examples, demonstrations, and an updated library of author-generated content, join
us at www.story201.com. Here you will find video tutorials, and valuable links for Television
Field Production and Reporting, 7th edition. Recognized around the world for their seminars and
presentations, the authors provide updated, specific instructional content available nowhere
else. We invite you to join us.
Contents

Preface xix
Acknowledgments xxi
Introduction 1

Chapter 1 Telling the Visual Story 2

Through Stories We Share Human Experience and Understanding 3
The Differences Between Visual Stories and Reports 4
Heart, Emotion, Demeanor 5
Toward a Philosophy – Placing the Human Perspective in Perspective 7
Telling Versus Showing 8
The Value of Visual Narrative 8
Silence as a Writing Tool 10
The Silent Languages of the Senses 10
Putting It All Together 11
Culture Impacts Perception 12
Summary 13
Discussion 14
Exercises 14
Notes 15

Contents
Chapter 2 Planning and Shooting the Story 17
The Best Stories Convey a Sense of Progression 17
V

Find Images That Convey a Clear Story Focus 18

Write the Pictures First 19
Reportorial Editing 19
Working as Part of a Team 21
Prove the Story’s Focus Visually 21
 The Focus May Change 22
Look for a Story Focus in Events with Uncontrolled Action 22
Tell Your Story Through People 23
Strong Natural Sound Helps Tell the Story 23
Build in Surprises 23
Keep Sound Bites Short 24
Address the Larger Issue 25
Challenge Your Focus Statement 25
Video Packages Are Factual Mini-Movies 25
The Lead 25
Provide Visual Proof for All Main Points 26
The Close 27
Be Hard On Yourself as a Writer 27
Write from the Visuals 28
Look for a Story While Capturing Uncontrolled Action 30
Look for the Larger Story 30
Summary 31
Key Terms 31
Discussion 31
Exercises 31
Notes 32

Chapter 3 Visual Grammar 33

The Shot 33
C ONTENTS

The Sequence 33
Basic Shots 34
Long Shot 35
VI

Medium Shot 35
Close-Up 35
How the Basic Shots Work Together 36
Camera Movement 36
Pan 36
Moving Shot 37
Combination Shot 37
Tilt Shot 38
Tracking Shot 38
Trucking Shot 38
Dolly Shot 38
Changes in Camera Perspective 38
Stabilize Shaky Images 40
Storytelling Shots 40
One Shots to Crowd Shots 43
Master Shot with Cut-Ins 43
Overlapping Action 45
Shooting Matched-Action Sequences 45
Jump Cuts 47
The Cutaway 48
The Motivated Cutaway 48
The Transition or Reveal Shot 48
Using Camera Movement to Enhance Storytelling 49
Point-Of-View Movement 50
Thinking Camera 50
Screen Direction 50
How to Avoid the False Reverse 51
Vary Camera Angles 52

Contents
Photograph People at Eye Level 53
Angles Provide Psychological Impact 53
Contrast and Comparison 53
VII

Composition 54
Summary 54
Key Terms 55
Discussion 55
 Exercises 56
Notes 57

Chapter 4 Video Editing: The Invisible Art 58

Editing Is Another Writing Tool 58
Toward a Philosophy of Editing 59
Everyone Is an Editor 59
The Cut 60
Choosing Edit Points 61
There Can Be No Matched Action Without Overlapping Action 62
Cutting On Action or At Rest 62
Into-Frame/Out-Of-Frame Action 63
Jump Cuts 64
Pop Cuts 64
Devices to Compress Time and Advance the Action 64
Parallel Cutting 66
Shot Order Impacts the Illusion of Continuity 66
Content Dictates Pace 67
Cutting to Condense Time 67
Composition Affects Pace 67
Screen Direction 68
Editing to Eliminate the False Reverse 69
The Transition Shot 69
C ONTENTS

Sound as a Transitional Device 70

Cold Cuts 71
Flash Cuts 71
V III

Cutting to Leave Space for Audience Reaction 71

Communication Pays 72
Dissolves and Other Optical Effects 72
Summary 73
Key Terms 74
 Discussion 74
Exercises 75
Notes 76

Chapter 5 Shooting Video in the Field 77

Composition Guidelines 77
The Rule of Thirds 77
Pointers for Wide Screen Composition 81
Use a Tripod Whenever Appropriate 82
The Handheld Camera 83
Control Breathing 84
Preplan Body Movement 84
Walk in Lockstep 84
How to Use the Zoom Lens 84
Avoid Calling Attention to the Zoom 85
Adjust Speed and Duration of Zoom to Story Mood and Pace 85
Recompose the Shot as You Zoom 85
Storytelling and Planning 85
Establish Communication in the Field 85
Think Before You Shoot 87
Shoot Sequences 87
Shoot and Move 87
Anticipate Action 89
Shoot Only the Shots You Need 89
Avoid Indiscriminate Shooting 89 Contents
Edit in the Camera 89
Shoot to Eliminate the False Reverse 90
IX

Involve the Camera in the Action 90

Working with People 91
Avoid Distracting the Subject 92
Staging Versus Motivating 93
 The One-Person Band 94
How to Shoot and Conduct Interviews Simultaneously 94
How to Photograph Your Own Standup 94
Shooting in Cold Weather 96
Safety First 97
Distancing 98
Safety in Numbers 98
Plan to Make Plenty of Mistakes 98
On Returning Home 100
Summary 100
Key Terms 101
Discussion 101
Exercises 102
Notes 102

Chapter 6 Writing with Light 104

Photography Is the Art of Controlling Light 104
White Balance 104
Mixing and Matching Light Sources 107
Helpful Filters 108
Lighting Kits 109
Lighting Styles and Patterns 109
Broad Lighting and Short Lighting 116
CONTENTS

Bounce Lighting 117

Eye Reflections 117
Lighting Nighttime Action 118
Photographing Subjects with Dark Skin 118
X

Cautions 120
Summary 121
Key Terms 122
Discussion 122
 Exercises 122
Notes 123

Chapter 7 The Sound Track 124

How Microphones Work 125
Directional Patterns 125
On Choosing a Mic 126
Impedance 127
Frequency Response 127
Microphones for the Visual Storyteller 127
The Wireless Transmitter-Receiver 130
The Mixer 133
Essential Points for Audio 134
Monitor the Sound with Earphones 138
Techniques to Reduce Wind Noise 138
Be Aggressive 141
The Microphone Hears Differently 142
Sound Perspective 142
Stereo and Surround-Sound 143
Covering News Conferences 143
Recording Group Discussions 144
The Two-Person Interview 145
Record Room Tone 145
The Seductive Quality of Nat Sound 145
Watch What You Say 145 Contents
Sound and Video Accessories 146
Summary 147
XI

Key Terms 148

Discussion 148
Exercises 149
Notes 150
 Chapter 8 The Interview: Shooting the Quotation Marks 151
Establish Trust 151
Practice Good Manners 152
The Most Important Interview Question 152
Save Your Questions for the Interview 152
Do Your Homework 152
How to Frame Interview Questions 153
Use a Wireless Microphone 154
The Art of Listening 154
Avoid the Easy Questions 155
Build Questions Around the Five W’s 155
Avoid Two-Part Questions 156
“How Do You Feel?” 156
Anticipate Questions the Viewers Would Ask 156
Practice the Fine Art of Hesitation 156
Pitch Reporting Opportunities 157
Prearrange Signals Between Reporter and Photographer 157
How to React Without Appearing to Agree 158
Retain Control of the Interview 159
Interviewing Children 159
The Talking Head 161
Influencing How Viewers Perceive the Subject 161
One-Eyed Talking Heads 162
C ONTENTS

Body Language 162

After the Interview Is Over 163
Interviews Allow Reporting Through Direct Observation 164
X II

Summary 165
Key Term 165
Discussion 165
Exercises 166
Note 167
Chapter 9 Writing the Package 168
Define Your Focus 169
Write the Beginning (Studio Lead-In) 169
Write the Package Lead 170
Write the Middle or Main Body 170
Write the Close 172
Preplan the Package 173
Spot-News Packages 174
Set a High Standard for Packages 176
Use Natural Sound Liberally 177
Summary 178
Key Terms 179
Exercises 179
Note 180

Chapter 10 Write Like a Storyteller 181

Transmitting the Experience 181
Be a Tour Guide 182
Use “Wows!” – The Things That Turn You On 183
Let Your Audience Experience the Wows 183
Moments 184
Great Moments Are Almost Always Unexpected 184
One Thought About Field Teamwork 184
Writing Your First Sentence 184

Contents
The Three Horses – Storytelling Tools for Video Stories 185
First Horse: Surprise 185
X II I

Second Horse: Quest 191

Third Horse: Character 193
Tips for Writing Strong Stories 195
Concluding Thoughts 197
Summary 197
 Discussion 199
Exercises 199
Notes 200

Chapter 11 Producing the Story Minute-By-Minute 201

The Big Picture 201
Size Matters – Bigger Is Not Always Better 201
Bottom Line 206
Starting Out, Over or Up 206
Six Overlooked Tools for Video Journalists 207
Minute-By-Minute – Lessons Learned in the Field 211
A Guided Tour: Lessons Learned 211
Adding Drones to Your Toolkit 215
The Future of Video Journalists 220
Summary 220
Key Terms 223
Discussion 223
Exercises 224
Notes 225

Chapter 12 How to Improve Your Storytelling Ability 227

Seek Gradual Improvement 227
Have a Story 227
CO NTENTS

Involve the Camera 228

Sequences Advance the Story 228
Don’t Try to Show All of New Zealand 230
Pursue Your Interest in People 231
X IV

Motivate Viewers to Watch 231

Develop Video Fluency 232
Excuses 232
Know the Community 233
Curiosity Pays 234
 See Beyond the Obvious 234
Show Audiences What They Missed 234
Help Viewers Experience the Story as You Did 237
Adapt Your Reporting to Story Demands 239
Reporting the Nonvisual Story 239
Personal Appearance and Conduct 240
Etiquette 240
Shooting and Reporting Events Outside Your Control 240
Toward a News Philosophy 243
Summary 244
Key Terms 245
Discussion 245
Exercises 246
Notes 247

Chapter 13 Improving On-Camera and Voice-Over Performance 248

Develop Qualities That Make You Interesting and Interested 248
Reasons for Standups 249
Keep Your Attention On the Story 250
Give Yourself Something to Do 251
Justifiable Reasons for Standups 251
Five Common Standups 251
Seek Reaction 255
Communicate What You Feel About the Story 256

Contents
Delivering from the Studio 257
Put Experience into Your Reports 257
Multidimensional Reporting 258
XV

Learn How to Relax 259

Develop Conversational Delivery 260
Your Appearance 261
Let the Audience Know You as a Friend 262
Impact How People Perceive Your Interview Sources 262
 Posture Matters 265
Split-Focus Presentation 265
The Anchor Debrief 266
When You Appear On Camera 266
How Reporters Evolve into Anchors 266
Summary 267
Key Terms 269
Discussion 269
Exercises 269
Notes 271

Chapter 14 Digital Media Law 272

Gathering the News 273
Libel 274
Invasion of Privacy 276
Defamation 277
Use of the Word Alleged 277
Apparent Authority 278
Technology 280
Surveillance in States with One-Party Consent 284
Two-Party Consent 285
Juvenile News Sources 285
Subpoenas and Shield Laws 286
CO NTENTS

Access Laws 286

Courtroom Television 286
The Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998 292
X VI

Freedom of Information Requests 299

A Legal Perspective 300
Summary 300
Key Terms 302
Discussion 303
 Exercises 304
Notes 305

Chapter 15 Ethics: Defining Your Contract with Viewers 308

Definition of Ethics 308
Effects of Competition 309
Situational Ethics 310
Licensing 310
Contract with the Public 311
At Issue: Image Manipulation 312
Make Your Case About Digital Manipulation 313
Case Studies in Ethical Dilemmas 316
Reverse-Angle Questions 321
Staged News Events 321
Reenactments 322
File Video 323
Material Provided by Outside Sources 323
Toward an Individual Code of Ethics 323
Summary 328
Key Terms 329
Discussion 329
Exercises 329
Discussion of Ethical Conflict Situations 330
Notes 333

Contents
Glossary 334
XVII

Index 353
Preface

This book is dedicated to helping you become one of a kind – a visual storyteller rather than
simply a photographer or writer. Anyone with a camera is a photographer; anyone with a
microphone can be a reporter. Today it may seem as if everyone has a video camera and
everyone’s shooting video and crafting stories. Relatively few among those multitudes,
however, will ever become accomplished visual storytellers.

You will need additional skills and digital “languages” if you intend to incorporate visual
storytelling into your professional career. At its simplest level, you will have to master two ways
of communicating: one is with pictures, and the other is with sound, including the spoken word.
Although it may sound easy, it’s not.

Your images must sparkle with articulate meaning; your lighting must mimic the Renaissance
mastery of light and shadow on a digital canvas; storytelling sound must become the other
half of the image, because we “see” with our ears; your writing must incorporate not only
the spoken word, deftly told, but all the tools of visual media. Storytelling is a learned art in a
world where only excellence, originality, and interesting, relevant content will attract and hold
discriminating viewers who patronize digital screens.

Your mastery of the visual languages in digital media, and a commitment to excellence, will
help ensure a long, profitable, and rewarding career. This seventh edition of Television Field
Production and Reporting features extensive updates and many new photographs that create
context for gathering and producing content for digital media, including websites, video, audio,
text, and multimedia.

The book includes guidance and insights by co-author and network correspondent/producer Preface
John Larson. He also travels internationally, shoots stories on his own, pilots his own drone,
and serves as a reporting and writing consultant.
X IX

Also of note are the contributions of co-author and network freelance photojournalist John
DeTarsio. DeTarsio is known within the television profession throughout the United States,
Canada, Europe, Africa, and South America. In this edition, he adds up-to-date information about
field production, photojournalism, lighting, and sound. Rather than simply providing technical
advice and explanations, he shows how to use the camera, microphone, edit bay, and lighting
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
"Sister Deborah, I am thinking of going to Berwick for a
little change, and to visit my friend Lady Betty Alworthy.
Will it be convenient to you to let me have the small
travelling coach, and Richard to attend me?"

"Certainly, Sister Philippa, but will not the journey fatigue

you?" said Mrs. Deborah. "You know the roads are not of
the best!"

"I do not think so!" was the reply, without any of Mrs.
Philippa's usual irritability at being opposed. "Doctor Brown
has lately come from Berwick, and he tells me the roads are
good; and Lady Betty specially desires my visit just now."

"Very well, Sister Philippa, suit your own convenience," was

the reply. "I will see that all things are in readiness and
trust you may have a pleasant visit."

"What is going to happen?" said I rather pertly, when Mrs.

Philippa had withdrawn.

Mrs. Chloe's soft eyes were full of tears, and old Roberts
shook his head solemnly.

"It is a warning, ladies! That's what it is!" said the old man.
"Something is a going for to happen to Mrs. Philippa. Folks
don't change that way for nothing. Didn't you notice, Mrs.
Deborah and Mrs. Chloe, that she never so much as called
me an old fool, once? Poor lady."

"What do you think is going to happen, Sister Deborah?"

asked Mrs. Chloe in a quivering voice.

"I think Philippa is going to Berwick, if she does not change

her mind before the day after to-morrow!" replied Mrs.
Deborah, with a tone and look which showed she was
annoyed. "And I am afraid I shall call Roberts an old fool
myself, if he does not clear the table, instead of standing
there talking nonsense to frighten you, Sister Chloe. Do
draw up your shawl and go to the fire."

"What did Roberts and Mrs. Chloe mean by saying that

something was going to happen to Mrs. Philippa?" I asked
of Amabel, when we were in our own room together.

Mary Lee thought the question was addressed to her and

answered with some solemnity.

"They think she is fey! Miss Corbet."

"Fey!" I repeated. "What is that?"

"Why, just fey! When any strange alteration comes over a

person as from close to liberal or from fretful to pleasant or
the other way, people say they are fey—and then they are
not long for this world."

"Oh, that is it. Well, we will not be alarmed for Mrs. Philippa
just yet," said I. "We shall see how she is to-morrow."

But to-morrow brought no alteration in Mrs. Philippa's

mood. Amabel and I waited on her every morning.
Sometimes she would admit us, and oftener we were sent
away, and bid not to be troublesome little hypocrites,
pretending what we did not feel. On these occasions, Tupper
always came outside the door and dismissed us with the
same remark.

"My mistress is not quite herself this morning, ladies.

Another time I am sure she will be happy."

I suppose she was quite herself, but it seemed more as if

she were somebody else the next morning, she was so very
gracious. We found her in the midst of a wonderful litter,
overseeing Tupper's occupation of packing a great mail,
while another stood by filled to the brim. I could not but
wonder that she should take so many things when she was
only going to stay a fortnight. Mrs. Philippa invited us to sit
down, and seeing that my eyes reverted to the great trunk,
she condescended to explain that she was not going to take
all these things with her.

"Not at least at present!" she added with a queer little blush

and smile.

An idea darted through my head, but it was so preposterous

that I rejected it directly.

"I hope you will be very kind to my sisters when I am

gone!" said Mrs. Philippa. "My Sister Chloe is a good
creature, though she is not very strong minded. Poor thing,
I wish I could see her better. And Sister Deborah is a good
creature too. We have not been on the best of terms
always. Deborah is sometimes rather too officious, but she
is a good creature. I am glad she will have your society
while I am away."

The idea came back and did not go away quite so easily.

Mrs. Philippa went on clearing out her drawers, and

bestowed upon us many bits for our patchwork, silks and
crewels for our work, pincushions, and other little presents,
and at last unlocked her jewel case and took from it two
boxes.

"This necklace, my dear, was your mother's before it was

mine, and you will like it none the loss on that account.
Yours, niece Corbet, was brought me many years ago from
over sea. Keep them to remember me by!"

She then dismissed us with great kindness.

"What does she mean?" asked Amabel, quite bewildered, as
we went to our bedroom to put away our gifts. "One would
think she never expected to come home again!"

"Perhaps she doesn't!" said I.

"What do you mean, Lucy. I see nothing like dying about

her."

"I was not thinking of dying, but of something else!" I

answered. "However, time will show."

"Lucy! How perfectly absurd!" said Amabel. "When she has

been mourning all these years for Mr. Falconer, and has
never seen any company."

"Except Doctor Brown!" I added.

"Worse and worse!" returned Amabel, laughing heartily.

"Lucy, I believe you are fey yourself. You used not to think
so much about matrimony."

"Ah, well, time will show! Let us look at our necklaces!"

Amabel's turned out to be a very rich thick gold chain

supporting a fine pendant of amethyst set round with
pearls. Mine was a chain of Turkey stones, supporting a
locket enameled also with Turkey stones. It opened and had
evidently once held a miniature.

"She never gave you that!" almost screamed Mrs. Chloe,

when I showed it to her. "Why, it was the gift of Mr. Philip
Falconer, and used to have his picture in it. My poor sister!
She is not long for this world. My dears!" sinking her voice
to a whisper. "Did either of you hear a strange noise last
night?"
"I heard the bloodhounds baying as they do every
moonlight night—that was all!" answered Amabel.

"Oh! You think it was the bloodhounds? Well, I don't know.

To my thinking, it sounded like something else—longer and
more dreary."

"Dear Aunt Chloe, don't give way to these dismal fancies!"

said Amabel, kissing her pale cheek. "I do not believe in the
wolf, one bit, if that is what you are thinking of. It is like
Aunt Philippa's death-watch, at which she was so scared,
and yet you see, she is not dead."

"But she may he. The five months are not up nor the five
years."

"We may all be dead and gone before five years, but I don't
believe the watch knew anything about it, more than the
wolf, if there is such a creature, which is more than
doubtful. Aunt Philippa is going to Berwick to make a visit,
and she is pleased with the prospect, and thought she
would give us some keepsakes,—that was all."

Mrs. Chloe sighed and shook her head and would not be
comforted. She was very superstitious, and her life was
really embittered with these fancies. If she had been going
to church to be married, and had seen a weasel, she would
have turned back. An owl's cry, or the flutter of a bird
against the window, would make her turn pale, and she was
quite certain that she had brought some great misfortune
on Amabel, because she had given her a hair-pin point
foremost.

Amabel, who had a way of speaking her mind freely without

giving offence, remonstrated with her Aunt Chloe about
giving way to needless fears.
"You know, dear Aunt Chloe, that we are all in God's hands,
and He can and will care for us as tenderly as a mother
cares for her babe. Why should we not trust Him to do just
what is best for us? And if we do, why should we let
ourselves be terrified by signs and omens?"

"I don't suppose it is right, but every one does it!" sighed
Mrs. Chloe. "And we know, niece, that there are evil spirits,
and such creatures allowed to go about, and why may they
not be near us at any time?"

"They may and they may not!" replied Amabel. "We cannot
see them, and nothing has been told us about them, so we
do not know; but we do know that we are all the time in
God's presence. He is always near at hand, to protect and
care for us."

"That is very true, Niece Leighton—very true indeed," said

Mrs. Chloe, as if struck with a new idea. "He is every where,
and so He must be here. But I don't know—we seem to
know so very little about Him. I can't help being afraid of
Him, though I don't suppose it is right."

"I used to feel just so, before I read the New Testament!"
said Amabel. "But when I read such places as, 'He that hath
seen Me, hath seen the Father,'—'I and my Father are one!'
then I felt that I knew a great deal more about Him. If the
Lord Jesus is His image, we need not be afraid of Him."

"Very true, my love. I never thought of it in that way!" said

Mrs. Chloe. "But tell me, don't you ever feel afraid at night,
when you wake up and hear all sorts of strange noises, like
sighs and moans and people walking and whispering?"

"Oh yes, very often. But, Aunt Chloe, if you are afraid in
your snug pretty little room with Bateson within call, and
your whistle just at your head, I wonder what you would
say to sleeping where Lucy and I used to do, in one corner
of the great deserted dormitory, with half the house shut up
and in ruins, and those great awful caverns underneath it."

"Yes, I never was so very much afraid, till after I had seen
the caverns and the black water!" I added. "I dream of
them now at times."

"How dreadful!" said Mrs. Chloe shuddering. "What did you

do?"

"Mother Prudentia used to tell us to put ourselves into the

hands of God, and the Holy Virgin, and repeat the psalm
'Qui habitat,'—the ninety-first, you know. I used to feel so
safe and easy when I came to, 'He shall cover thee with His
wings.'"

"My dear, will you look me out that psalm? I think I will
learn it by heart!" said Mrs. Chloe. "Of course I have read it
hundreds of times, but somehow I never thought it was me
whom He would cover. Thank you, my dear, you have done
me a great deal of good."

Amabel found the psalm in Mrs. Chloe's great prayer-book,

and I noticed afterwards that she kept it open by her, and
used to be murmuring verses over to herself, whenever she
was alone with her knitting—the only work she ever
attempted nowadays. She had taken to sitting most of the
time in our cheerful sunny little room, and though she was
no great help to our lessons, being one of those persons
who never can refrain from talking when there is any one to
talk to, we were very glad to have her there, and to give up
our time to her, for we both felt we should not have her
very long.

But I am wandering a long way from Mrs. Philippa and her

affairs. The lady accomplished her journey in safety, as she
sent word when the carriage came back, and felt herself
much better for the change. She sent her love to Mrs.
Deborah, with a handsome new china jug—Mrs. Deborah
was fond of jugs—and to Mrs. Chloe, a soft warm shawl and
a pair of fur-lined slippers; and there were little presents for
Amabel and myself, and a parcel of needles, knitting-pins
and thread for the school children.

Richard on being questioned, declared that Mrs. Philippa

had purchased all these things herself—that she was buying
"a power of new gowns," and was "as pert as a pyet," and
moreover had not called him a fool once since he left the
Hall. By all which signs, he concluded infallibly, that Mrs.
Philippa was not long for this world.

"Did you see any one that we know, Richard, beside Lady
Betty's family?" asked Mrs. Chloe.

"I did see Doctor Brown!" answered Richard. "His Reverence

was about buying of a new coach, and Lady Betty and Mrs.
Philippa went with him to see it."

Whereupon I glanced at Amabel, and she shook her head

severely at me.

Shrove Tuesday was a lovely day, I remember. Amabel and I

had been out looking for flowers, and had found very few,
for spring comes but slowly in Northumberland. However,
we had gathered a bunch of wind flowers, and had the
wonderful good luck to find in a sheltered sunny spot a tuft
of primroses, and a few sweet blue and white violets.

When we went in to carry them to Aunt Chloe, we found her

leaning back in her chair sobbing bitterly. Mrs. Deborah held
an open letter in her hand, and looked as though she did
not know whether to laugh or be angry. A box full of bride-
cake and another of white gloves and favors stood on the
table.

I guessed all in a minute and glanced at Amabel, who

looked puzzled enough. With all her intelligence, she was
never very "gleg at the uptak," except where people's
feelings were concerned. I was dying with curiosity, but of
course I did not ask any questions, but waited to be told.

"Well, nieces, what do you think has happened?" said Mrs.

Deborah.

I knew well enough, but nobody likes to have their news

forestalled, so I did not say a word, but left the answer to
Amabel, who was as innocent as a babe.

"Nothing bad, I hope, aunt; nothing to Mrs. Philippa," said

she.

"Something to Mrs. Philippa, but nothing bad," said Mrs.

Deborah, trying to keep the corners of her mouth in order.
"Nieces, your Aunt Philippa is married!"

And here Mrs. Deborah broke down into a hearty laugh,

while Mrs. Chloe sobbed afresh, and murmured, "Sister
Deborah, how can you?"

"Why, one may as well laugh as cry, child," said Mrs.

Deborah. "Yes, after twenty years of mournful constancy to
the memory of her first love, my Sister Philippa is really
married, and to whom do you think?"

"To Doctor Brown!" I could not help saying.

"Even so, child, but how did you hear?"

"I did not hear, Aunt Deborah, I guessed," I replied.
"Amabel was shocked at me for hinting such a thing before
Mrs. Philippa went away."

"You are a shrewd little puss," said Mrs. Deborah, shaking

her head, but not looking at all displeased. "I never thought
of such a thing."

"I am sure I did not," said Mrs. Chloe, through her tears.
"She never hinted such a thing to me—I that have stood by
her for so many years. I do think she might have told me,
at least."

"I suppose she was ashamed," replied Mrs. Deborah. "Never

mind, Chloe, we all know that poor Philippa is peculiar. I
hope Doctor Brown will be as glad of his bargain five years
hence as he is now."

"She said he was her spiritual adviser," said Mrs. Chloe,

beginning to recover herself a little. "She said she had
derived great benefit from him."

"Well, so it seems she has."

"And here is Amabel going to marry the first Church of

England clergyman she ever heard preach," continued Mrs.
Chloe. "I declare, I shall begin to think spiritual advisers are
very dangerous people."

Mrs. Chloe was very much hurt at her sister's want of

confidence in her for a while, but her amiable spirit soon
began to make excuses for her.

In truth, such marriages were not very uncommon in those

days. Two people who were betrothed would steal away
from a ball or party, perhaps, to another room in the same
house, with two or three witnesses, be married, and return
to the company as if nothing had happened; and marriages
were sometimes kept a profound secret for months. It was
not a good fashion, and brought about a good many
complicated lawsuits, but it was not considered at all
disreputable.

Mrs. Philippa's fortune was in her own right, and nobody

had a shadow of authority over her, except, perhaps, her
brother, and as she was older than he by two or three
years, she naturally did not think he had any special right to
direct her. Doctor Brown's family, though not distinguished,
was respectable. There was nothing against him personally,
and he had a comfortable private fortune besides his office
at Durham. Nevertheless Sir Julius was furiously angry, and
wrote Mrs. Deborah a most unreasonable letter—as though
she had been the one to blame.

I think Mrs. Chloe suffered the most of any one from this
very unexpected healing of Mrs. Philippa's twenty years'
heart-break. She missed her sister, whom she had really
loved despite her unkindness, and I am sure she felt it hard
that Mrs. Philippa should get a rich husband, while she
herself had none at all. It was truly pitiable to see how the
poor thing's thoughts still ran upon such things, though
every one in the house could see with half an eye that she
was not long for this world. She grew thinner and weaker
every day, and her little dry cough kept her awake in spite
of all Mrs. Deborah's bread jellies, and poppy and lettuce
syrups.

Mr. Lethbridge used to come and read to her sometimes,

but she did not like him very much, and, indeed, he was not
a cheering visitor. I used to wonder if he thought it was
good for a sick person to hear the particulars of every case
of illness and suffering in the parish.
Mrs. Philippa paid us a visit, during Lent, with her husband.
I never in all my life saw any one so pleased with being
married. She could talk of nothing else, and uttered some
speeches which made us young ones feel as if we did not
know where to look. I never was fond of seeing over-much
billing and cooing in public between even young married
folks; but I never saw a bride and bridegroom of twenty-
one so exasperatingly silly in this respect as Doctor and
Mrs. Brown. However, she was very good-natured, and
invited us all to visit her so seen as she should be settled in
her new house, which, according to her description, was
quite a palace. She was especially kind to Mrs. Chloe, and
took great pains to amuse her. She staid a whole week, and
then left her old home apparently without a single regret.

We had another visitor during Lent, namely, Mr. Cheriton. It

seems Mr. Lethbridge had business in Newcastle which
would keep him there some three weeks, and Mr. Cheriton
learning of it, arranged to exchange duties with him for that
time. Oh what a comfort it was to have him preach again!

He held service on Wednesdays and Fridays, and, as we

always went to church, we saw him tolerably often. Mrs.
Deborah invited him to make the Hall his home during his
stay, but he declined, saying that there were so many cases
of severe illness among the people—as, indeed, there were
—that he wished to be near at hand in case of a sudden
call. Mrs. Deborah admitted the validity of the excuse, but
begged him to come to dinner or supper without ceremony,
as he would always find a plate, and he did so with very
tolerable frequency. Both parties kept carefully clear of
politics, and I think Mrs. Deborah came to regard Mr.
Cheriton's whiggery as more his misfortune than his fault—
as a kind of disorder that ran in some families like gout.
Mr. Cheriton was a fine musician, as I have said, and he
brought us a great parcel of new music by the best
composers. We used to sing together a deal, which was a
great pleasure to Mrs. Chloe. Next to having a love affair of
her own, was the pleasure of watching another's.

But Mr. Cheriton did Mrs. Chloe good in other and better
ways. He himself proposed that as she could not go to
church, he should have prayers for her benefit every
Sunday evening, after which he would read her his sermon.
He was a true "son of consolation," and knew just what to
say and what not. Whenever he spent the evening with us,
we had evening prayers, which we did not at other times,
and Mr. Cheriton usually said a few words upon the Gospel
for the day or week.

I think Mrs. Deborah, at first, looked on this practise of

preaching in a private house, as a dangerous innovation
akin to field preaching, and holding conventicles; but she
soon came to like it.

Mr. Cheriton held several long conversations with Mrs.

Chloe, and I began presently to perceive a change in her.
She left off talking about her past matrimonial chances, and
her plans for visiting "my Sister Brown," when warm
weather came. Her Bible was constantly in her hand or by
her side as she sat in her great chair or lay on the couch,
and she spent a good deal of time studying a volume of Mr.
Charles Wesley's poems, which Mr. Cheriton had brought to
Amabel.

"I don't know how it is, but they seem somehow to express
just what I want!" she said rather apologetically to Mrs.
Deborah one day. "And, you know, Sister Deborah, that Mr.
Wesley is a regularly ordained clergyman of the Church of
England."
"Do read them as much as you like, if they are any comfort
to you, Sister Chloe!" was Mrs. Deborah's reply.

I think she would even have welcomed a Roman Catholic

priest if he had brought any comfort to Chloe. I used
sometimes to wonder, by the way, how Mrs. Deborah
reconciled her hatred of popery and her almost idolatrous
loyalty to the banished Stewarts, but there were a great
many others in the same case. I do not believe there were
ever a more unreasonable and unreasoning set of people
than the English Jacobites. After all the national experience
of the faithlessness of their idols, they were just as ready to
fall down and adore them again, as though they had never
broken a pledge. They worshipped the Church of England.
Yet they were ready to set over her a man who was bound
by the most solemn obligations to overthrow her. It was
certainly a pity to see the blood and treasure that were
thrown away, and the misery and distress that were brought
about, by the unreasoning loyalty to one particular family,
which had never shown itself worthy of trust.

Mr. Cheriton went home at last promising to come again as

soon as possible, and leaving a great many well wishes
behind him. While he had been very careful not to interfere
with Mr. Lethbridge's arrangements, but on the contrary had
upheld him in every possible way, the people could not but
feel the difference between his ministrations and those of
the rector.

"Seems like as if one could talk to that gentleman and open

one's mind to him!" said Mary Thorne, a very intelligent old
woman in one of the alms houses. "He listens to one, he
does, and finds out what one means. I told him all my
trouble about the Sacrament,—" a matter on which poor old
Mary had been much exercised—"and told him how I was
afraid either to come or to stay away. Mr. Lethbridge always
said it was want of faith, and Doctor Brown would just say,
'poor soul, poor soul,' kind of pitying like, and then go home
and send me some broth or something. He was very kind,
but he didn't help me any. But 'Muster Cheriton,' he made it
all plain, and now it seems as if I could not wait for Easter
to come, that I may go to the Lord's table."

Easter came and passed very happily, and it was observed

that there were more communicants than were ever seen
before. We all went to church in the morning, except Mrs.
Chloe, who had failed a great deal of late, and now seldom
left her bedroom before noon.

In the afternoon, Mr. Lethbridge brought the feast to her,

and to old Roberts, who was growing very infirm and hardly
able to perform his duties.

Amabel and I walked out in the park, gathered a great

nosegay for Mrs. Chloe, and talked of our future as young
folks will do. Of course, I was to live with Amabel, till I had
a home of my own, and was to have the south room which
looked toward the church. I was not so light-hearted as
Amabel, for Mrs. Thorpe, who wrote to us sometimes, had
mentioned in her last letter that her nephew's ship had
never been heard from since it sailed for the Indies, and
that people were beginning to think something had
happened to her. However, I kept my troubles to myself, or
rather I tried humbly to lay them on some one better able
to bear them than I, and I listened to Amabel's plans and
discussed them with real interest and pleasure.

"Mrs. Chloe does not talk any more about the set of chairs
she was going to begin in the spring," remarked Amabel.
"She never says anything now about getting well when the
warm weather comes, but I think she seems a great deal
happier than she used."
"She has given up!" said I. "You know dear Mother Superior
used to say that there was great happiness in giving up.
Mrs. Chloe told me the other day, that you and Mr. Cheriton,
between you, had done her more good than you would ever
know."

"I am sure I am very glad to hear it!" said Amabel, her

quiet eyes shining with pleasure.

"Lucy, what have I done that I should be so happy? While

you that are so much better in every way—"

Amabel stopped short. It was the first time she had given
me a hint that she had guessed my secret.

"Don't, please, Amabel!" said I. "I hope I can bear all I am

called on to endure, but I can't bear to hear it talked about
even by you. Forgive me, dear!" For I was afraid I might
have hurt her.

"There is nothing to forgive!" said Amabel, pressing my arm

in hers. "I should feel just so."

We walked home without any more words, and I shut

myself up alone awhile. Comfort came to me by and by, and
when Mrs. Chloe remarked, as I kissed her good-night, that
this had been a happy day, I was glad to be able to agree
with her.

The next day but one, as Amabel and I were returning from
the village school, we were astonished to meet Mr. Cheriton.
His face was pale, his dress disordered, and his jaded horse
showed how fast he had travelled. It was just at the
entrance of the avenue, and one of the grooms being at
hand, Mr. Cheriton gave him the horse, with a charge to be
careful of him, as he had made a hasty journey.
"We were not looking for you!" said Amabel. "What has
brought you in such a hurry?" Then turning pale as Mr.
Cheriton did not answer, "Walter, what is it! You have ill
news. What does it mean?"

"That is what you must tell me!" said Mr. Cheriton, in a

hoarse voice, not a bit like his own. "I received this letter
yesterday. Read it both of you."

He put it into Amabel's hand, as he spoke, and I looked

over her shoulder. It was a very short and ungracious letter
from Sir Julius, saying that he had heard reports injurious
to Mr. Cheriton's character, and having learned from the
best authority, that these reports were even less than the
truth, he forbade him to entertain any hopes of his
daughter, or even to see her more.

"An enemy hath done this!" was Amabel's first word.

"Yes, but who? I did not know that I had one. I know some
idle tales were told about me at one time, but I thought
they had all died out long ago. Amabel, you will not—"

"Don't ask Amabel to pledge herself to anything just this

moment!" I interrupted. "Let us go straight to Mrs.
Deborah."

"You are right, Lucy!" said Mr. Cheriton. "I hardly know what
I am doing. Let us go to Mrs. Deborah, as you say."

"Mrs. Deborah is in her own sitting-room, reading her

letters!" said Richard, in answer to my inquiries. "An
express has come from Sir Julius, with great news."

I do not know that I have any Scotch blood, but I certainly

do have at times an odd kind of second sight. The moment
Richard spoke, I knew it all.
We found Mrs. Deborah sitting in her little room, half office,
half parlor. She had an open letter before her, but she was
not reading it. She was pale, and her black brows seemed
almost to hide her eyes. She hardly seemed at first to
understand who we were, and asked somewhat fiercely
what we meant by coming to disturb her.

"We wanted help!" said Amabel. "Aunt, can you explain

that?" Handing her the letter as she spoke.

Mrs. Deborah glanced through it.

"Too well!" said she. "I also have had a letter which explains
it all. Child, your father is married again, and to Lady
Throckmorton."

CHAPTER XX.

VISITORS.

"THAT is it!" said Mr. Cheriton, striking his hand on the

table, while Amabel and I stood as if dumb. "She told me
when I would not come to her card parties on Sunday, that
she would send me a bull's head. * And to think of the
hours that I have wasted, and worse than wasted in that
woman's house—dishonoring my Master's livery. It is a
judgment upon me, but this child—what has she done?"

* Alluding to the old Scottish and Northumbrian custom

of placing a bull's head before guests, whose death was
determined on.

"Hush, Walter, do not speak rashly, nor talk of judgments!"

said Amabel, speaking quite calmly, though she was pale as
death. "We will not talk of judgments, but of chastenings."

"Of persecutions, rather!" I added. "Blessed are they who

are persecuted for righteousness' sake! If you had kept on
flattering her, she would not have been your enemy."

"If I had never begun it, she could not have found occasion
against me!" returned Mr. Cheriton. "My sin hath found me
out."

"Hush!" said Mrs. Deborah, raising her hand. "You young

people think you have all to bear. Is it nothing to me to
have that woman come into my place,—knowing her as I
do? To see my only brother besotted with a—Oh me, oh me!
How shall I ever tell Chloe?"

And Mrs. Deborah broke down in a burst of bitter weeping,

dreadful to see in one usually so self-restrained. We were all
about her in a moment. She clasped Amabel in her arms,
and laying her head on her shoulder as she knelt on the
floor, she sobbed bitterly.

As for me, I was too fiercely angry to cry. Mr. Cheriton, who
had in some degree regained his self-control, at the sight of
Mrs. Deborah's distress, now spoke in his deep voice—

"Let us pray!"

I shall never forget that prayer, nor how it sustained and

comforted us all. We knelt in silence for some moments,
and then Mrs. Deborah rose—

"Children, we must consider what is to be done!" said she.

"It is evident that my brother has been set against Mr.
Cheriton, by somebody interested in preventing this
marriage. Be quiet while I read you his letter, or that part of
it which relates to you."

We listened accordingly. The letter was a repetition, for the

most part, of what Sir Julius had written to Mr. Cheriton,
only that it entered more into particulars, accusing Mr.
Cheriton of low intrigues, and conduct unbecoming a
gentleman, and concluded by saying—

"I will never give my daughter to a canting Methodist. Let

Mr. Cheriton give up his irregular practices—his field
preaching and class-meetings, let him apologize to my wife
for his affronts to her, and show by his conduct that he
regrets them, and I may possibly be induced to overlook
the natural irregularities of a young man. I say possibly, for
I may have other and higher views for my daughter."

"He is very good!" said Mr. Cheriton, with a look on his face
and a tone of bitterness in his voice, which I never
witnessed or heard before. "If I will give up preaching to the
poor and seeking the lost, that is to say, if I will give up the
work I am doing for the Lord, he will possibly overlook what
I am said to have done for the devil. As to Lady
Throckmorton, as I have never affronted her, I owe her no
apology. What say you, Amabel? Shall I give up my
preaching to the colliers and ballast men, for your sake?"
"Never!" said Amabel firmly. "I would rather never see you
more in this world, than that you should swerve one hair's
breadth from your duty for my sake."

"Besides, it would be only a chance!" said I. "Do you not

see, that Sir Julius says he may have other and higher
views for his daughter?"

"Let us say no more at present, my children!" said Mrs.

Deborah. "But take time to think. Mr. Cheriton, you are
much in need of refreshment. Lucy, will you order
something? Amabel, my love, you had better retire to your
room and compose your spirits. We will talk of this matter
again."

But a sad interval was to pass before the matter was again
discussed. We had not yet separated, when Jenny came in
all haste to say, that Mrs. Chloe had fallen into a fainting-fit,
and her woman could not bring her to, with all she could do.

"It was just that grinning fool Richard!" said Jenny in great
wrath. "He must come in with a basket of sticks, for Mrs.
Chloe wanted a bright fire, and what must he do, but
congratulate her on the happy news as he called it, and
when Mrs. Chloe asked what it meant, he said master was
married to Lady Throckmorton, and poor Mrs. Chloe, she
just gave one mournful cry and sunk back like one dead."

All these particulars were given to us, for Mrs. Deborah had
hurried to her sister. Poor Mrs. Chloe came out of her
fainting-fit, only to have a dreadful bleeding from her lungs.
An express was sent in all haste for the doctor, and another
for Mrs. Philippa—Mrs. Brown, I should say. The doctor did
not arrive till night, and then gave no hopes. Mrs. Chloe
survived about a week, and then passed quietly away, in
the comfort of a reasonable, religious, and holy hope. I
suppose she could not have lived long at any rate; but there
is no doubt that the news of her brother's marriage to a
woman whom she disliked, and with the best of reasons,
hastened her end. She gave Mrs. Deborah written directions
as to the disposition of her affairs, and said that she had
made her will, which was in the hands of Mr. Thirlwall, the
family lawyer and man of business at Newcastle. I had
supposed as much, knowing that he had paid her several
visits during the winter.

An express had been sent to Sir Julius, as soon as Mrs.

Chloe's case had been pronounced hopeless, and he arrived
in time for the funeral without his wife, who he said was
unfit for such a hasty journey.

I am not apt to take impressions at first sight. But when I

do, though I may sometimes change them for awhile, I am
very apt to return to them. My first sight of Sir Julius'
picture, led me to think him a vain man, at once weak and
obstinate. I have never seen cause to change my opinion.

Sir Julius greeted his sister with a great show of cordiality,

but withal, much as if he had been an impudent lad caught
robbing an orchard and determined to brave it out. He was
very gracious to Amabel, and more condescending to me
than I thought there was any call for, seeing that my family
was as good as his own or better, and that he had all these
years been pocketing the rents from my poor father's little
estate of Black Lees. (So I had learned from Mrs. Chloe,
though forgot to mention it in the right place.) However, I
was determined to bear everything for Amabel's sake.

He could not well find fault with the arrangements for the
funeral, seeing that Mrs. Chloe had ordered them all
herself; but he frowned at the needless expense, as he
called it, of giving new frieze coats to the poor men in the
alm-houses, and new gray gowns to the old women; and
swore roundly, when he heard that Mrs. Chloe had ordered
Mr. Cheriton to officiate at her funeral, "that he would not
have the canting Methodist enter his house."

"There will be no occasion for him to do so, since he will

meet my poor sister's corpse at the church-yard!" replied
Mrs. Deborah calmly. "Let me advise you, brother, to swear
no rash oaths. There has been harm enough done that way
in this family."

Sir Julius was silent, and made no more objection to Mr.

Cheriton. I could not but see how Mrs. Deborah put him
down, whenever they were together.

We had another very unexpected guest at the funeral.

Notice of Mrs. Chloe's death had been sent to an aunt of
Mrs. Deborah's who had married one of the Scots of
Eskdale, and was called Lady Thornyhaugh, after the name
of the estate, as the custom is in Scotland concerning
landed proprietors. She was a widow of many years
standing, and was about eighty-five years old, though no
one would have taken her to be seventy. She arrived on
horseback riding behind a trusty man-servant, and attended
by her bower-woman, as she called her, as old, upright, and
active as herself.

I fell in love with her at once, and she was kind enough to
take equally to me. Her presence was a great comfort to us
all, and especially to Mrs. Deborah. She was a beautiful old
lady, with silvery white hair which would curl in spite of her,
eyes the exact counterpart of Amabel's, and a perfectly
refined and ladylike manner. She spoke with a very strong
Scotch accent, but we had learned Scotch enough from
Elsie, not to mind that.
The funeral was celebrated, and then came the reading of
the will, at which all the family were present. It seemed
that Mrs. Chloe was much richer than either of her sisters,
since beside her share of her mother's fortune, which was
not inconsiderable, she had inherited some five thousand
pounds from a god-mother, for whom she was named.

This fortune, after a legacy of five hundred pounds apiece to

her brother and Mrs. Brown, and the same to myself; was
equally divided between Mrs. Deborah and Amabel. Mrs.
Deborah's portion was also to be divided between Amabel
and me after her death. Remembrances were left to Doctor
Brown and Mr. Lethbridge, to the doctor and lawyer, and to
each of the servants—even to the little girl who weeded the
flower-beds.

I think, Mrs. Philippa—I shall never learn to write Mrs.

Brown—was disappointed a little, but if so she was too
proud to show it. Indeed, I must say that no one could have
behaved better than she did throughout the whole affair. I
should say that Mrs. Chloe left "my Sister Brown" all her
ornaments, of which she had a great many, and a fine
cupboard of blue china which she had been collecting all her
life, and which Mrs. Philippa had always coveted.

Sir Julius, on the contrary, did not try to hide his vexation.
It was plain that he had always counted on Mrs. Chloe's
leaving all her money to himself, and I was wicked enough
to be glad to see him disappointed. He swore roundly at Mr.
Thirlwall for allowing Mrs. Chloe to make such an absurd
will, and for not letting him know about it in time to have it
altered.

The old gentleman took snuff, and answered quietly that it

was not his place to betray the secrets of his clients, but
that if Sir Julius was dissatisfied, he was quite welcome to
employ any other lawyer he pleased; whereat Sir Julius
drew in his horns, if I may be allowed the expression, and
began to stammer some sort of apology.

"I am astonished at you, brother, I am, indeed!" said Mrs.

Brown, with a great deal of real dignity. "My Sister Chloe
had a right to dispose of her property as she pleased, and I
for one am quite satisfied with the arrangement. Doctor
Brown, are you not satisfied with my sister's disposition of
her estate?"

"Certainly, my dear, certainly," replied the doctor; "and I

should have been satisfied if the good lady had not left us a
penny."

In which, I doubt not, he spoke the truth, for he was

already rich, and love of money was not one of his faults.

Sir Julius stayed at home about a week, and went away in a

much better humor than that he had brought with him. He
was very proud of Amabel's beauty and accomplishments,
and disarmed by her submission to his will. He had a long
talk with Mr. Cheriton, and at last, of his own accord, he
promised to put no force upon Amabel's inclinations for the
present, though he insisted that the young people should
neither see each other nor correspond till he gave them
permission, and this they both promised.

"I would not have the lass build too much on her father's
present mood," said the old lady from Thornyhaugh, as we
two sat together in the little south room the evening after
Sir Julius had departed. "I should not speak so of my nevoy
belike, but he aye minds me of what was said of King James
the Sixth by ane wha keened him weel. 'Do you ken a
jackanape?' said he. 'If you hold Jocko by the chain you can
make him bite me, but if I hold him by the chain I can make
him bite you.'"

"That is just what I think, madam," said I. (As we were

alone together I thought I might have the comfort of
speaking my mind for once.) "I know Lady Throckmorton—
Lady Leighton, I mean—a little, and from what I have seen
of them both, I do not believe Sir Julius is likely to make
any stand against her."

"Aye, and what do you know of her, my lass?"

In answer I gave her an account of our visit to Lady

Throckmorton.

"Just like her!" was the comment. "What's bred in the bone
stays long in the blood. I keened her mother before her, and
she was just such another. A fine guardian, truly, to set over
his daughter. Aweel, Lucy Corbet, I am no Papist nor favorer
of Papists, or of them that would bring them back on this
land, but, saving their religion, I would wish you and my
niece were safe back yonder in your convent. Poor children!
This world is a hard place for motherless lassies."

She stroked my head as I sat on a low seat to which she

had called me beside her, and I kissed her beautiful
withered hand, and felt comforted by her sympathy.

"What I most fear, if I may venture to say so, madam—" I

began, and then stopped.

"Say what is in your mind, bairn," said the old lady, "I shall
never repeat a word."

"What I fear for Amabel then is, that Lady Throckmorton—I

mean Lady Leighton—will try to marry her up to some of
the men who are always hanging about her—to Lord
Bulmer, for instance. Do you think, madam, that in that
case Amabel would be bound to obey?"

The old lady meditated for a moment before she spoke.

"No, bairn, I would not say so. If my nephew forbids his

daughter to marry this minister—what is his name?"

"Mr. Cheriton."

"Aye, Mr. Cheriton. If my nevoy forbids his daughter to

marry this man, though there be naught against him,
doubtless his daughter is bound to obey her father, at least
till she is of age. Children are to obey their parents in the
Lord. But no parent has the right to make his child perjure
herself by promising to love and honor a man whom she
hates and despises, or to promise to love one man while her
heart is another's. That such matches have sometimes
turned out well to appearance is but saying that sin is
sometimes overruled for good. Nay, I am as earnest as any
one for obedience to parents, but if a father bids his child to
bow down before an idol, she is not bound to obey."

We both started as Amabel came forward to the fire and

spoke, for we had not heard her enter.

"I think you are quite right, aunt," said she. "If my father
requires me to give up Mr. Cheriton I will do so, at least till I
am of age, but nothing shall ever make me marry any one
else, while he lives—nothing!"

She spoke without excitement, but with the calm resolute

air I knew so well.

"You are right, niece!" said Leddy Thornyhaugh. "So long as

you hold that resolution, nobody can make you marry. But if
you should ever, either of you, be driven to straits and need
a friend, come to me at Thornyhaugh and you shall find
one, if I am alive."

The good lady went away next day much regretted by us

all. Elsie would fain have returned with her foster-sister, for
such she was, but after some private conversation, she
decided to remain.

Doctor and Mrs. Brown also took their departure, Mrs.

Philippa—there it goes again—had made herself very
agreeable during her stay. She seemed wonderfully well-
pleased with her new state of life, and I suppose happiness
agreed with her. She gave us all pressing invitations to
come and visit her, and was very affectionate to Mrs.
Deborah at parting. I believe she did really in some degree
begin to appreciate her sister's forbearance toward her
through all those weary years. As for her husband, he was
always pleasant when he was pleased, and some people are
not even that. He was just the husband for Mrs. Philippa for
he was too easy-going to mind her little tempers, while he
could be firm enough when once he set his foot down.

As soon as our company had departed, Mrs. Deborah set on

foot a great house-cleaning and renovating. Sir Julius had
intimated his intention to return to Highbeck Hall in the
course of the summer with his wife and a party of friends,
and Mrs. Deborah was determined to leave all in order for
him. I say to leave advisedly, for nothing could shake her
determination to depart from Highbeck Hall before Lady
Leighton entered it.

"I will never see that woman in my honored mother's

place!" she said. "If my brother had chosen to marry a
sober respectable person like his second wife, though she
had been even a grocer's daughter, I should have nothing to
say; but I will never sleep under the same roof with that
woman."

Amabel and I found in this cleaning and moving process

some diversion at least. It was quite wonderful to me to see
what hoards of curious things had accumulated in the
house. Such heaps of old finery—silks and satins and laces
—such odds and ends of gold and silver, and old-fashioned
ornaments and what not. In turning out a chest of drawers
one day, we came cross an old needlecase of gold with blue
and white enamel, and seeing how much I admired it, Mrs.
Deborah gave it to me. Carelessly enough I laid it on the
top of a tall cabinet which stood in our bedroom, but when I
went to look for it, it had disappeared.

"What can have become of it?" said I to Amabel. "I am sure

I laid it here this morning."

"You should have put it carefully away in your work-bag,

and then it would have been safe!" remarked Amabel,
seeing an occasion which indeed she seldom wanted in my
case, for a little homily on tidiness. "Perhaps it has rolled
down behind the cabinet."

"I can see it!" said I peeping into the very narrow space
between the cabinet and the wall. "But I cannot reach it. Let
us try to move the cabinet out a little, Amabel."

To our agreeable surprise, the apparently heavy cabinet

moved with a good deal of squeaking and creaking indeed
but with tolerable ease, upon rollers concealed in the gilt
griffin's claws which formed its feet. I recovered my
needlecase and then began admiring the freshness and
beauty of the hanging behind the cabinet.

"It is of a different pattern from the rest!" remarked

Amabel. "It is like that in the little withdrawing-room down
stairs."

"It is not fastened to the wall, either," said I.

I raised the long strip of hanging as I spoke, and to my

surprise—to my alarm I might almost say—I discovered a
bolted door behind it.

"See here, Amabel!" said I. "This door opens into the ghost
room! Are you not afraid?"

"No, I don't know that I am!" replied Amabel. "There is a

good substantial bolt, as you see, and as for the ghost I
believe that sort of gentry do not need doors for their
entrance and exit."

"Would you dare open it?" said I. "I have a curiosity to see
how a room looks into which no one has set foot for two
hundred years and more."

"Well, look then! What harm can it do! And yet after all I
would let it alone, I think!" said Amabel. "Perhaps Mrs.
Deborah would not like it."

At that moment Amabel was called down stairs to attend to

some matter or other. I looked at the bolted door and my
curiosity grew stronger. I could not think of any harm it
would do to take a peep, and I wanted to see what a
ghost's room looked like. So I pushed back the bolt and
opened the door with less difficulty than I expected, rather
dreading all the time, lest I should see the poor wolf-lady's
green fiery eyes glaring at me through the darkness.

However, I saw nothing of the kind. The door opened into a

kind of closet or press, and that into a common-place
looking room enough, with a bed hung with dark faded red
stuff, and other furniture of the same sort. The windows