Over the Cliffs

Front matter

EY CHAELOTTE CHANTEE, AUTHOR OF " FERNT COMBES." IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: SMITH, ELDEE AND CO., 65, CORNHILL., M.DCCC.LX. \_Thc right of Translation is reserved.] CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. Chap. Page I. The Home or the Daavsons . . .7 II. "The Seagulls in their Nest" . 12 III. Looking OUT FoAMAVARD . . .22 IV. Hat Harvest . . . ... 29 V. Reginald's neav Era . . . .41 VI. A Child of Song . . . 52 VII. The Vicar of Carden . . . .62 VIH. The Storm-Fiend . . . . . 74 IX. Snared in his Guilt . . . .82 X. Tte's Adventures . . . 86 XI. The Young Anglers . . . .99 XII. A Mysterious Errand . . . ill XIII. How to use a Secret . . . .121 XIV. Life and Death . . . . • 135 XV. There is Danger ! .... 145 XVI. A Successful Foray . . . • • 160 XVII. Where have you been, Miss Tye? . . 172 XVIII.

Les Solitaires . . • • • I83 XIX. A Lion in the Distance . . . .191 XX. The Encounter, and what came of it . . CONTENTS. vi Chap. Page XXI. The Sorrows of Grace Dawson . .217 XXII. A Mystery avorth knowing . . . 227 XXIII. Mother Agnes ..... 240 XXIV. Tracking the Destroyer . . . . 250 XXV. The Cottage in the Fields . . . 256 XXVI. Sugared Peaches 263 XXVn. A Scheming Benedict • . . .277 XXVTH. A Conflict

Chapter I. The Home Of The Dawsons

Away in the west is the old home of the Dawsons — away by towering cliffs and raging waters. The wind comes sighing over sedgy moorlands, the mist drives up from the sea, and mist and wind seem fit possessors of that desolate region. No stately English mansion shut in by towering trees, no pretty villas with dowery lawns, no trim cottages with tiny gardens, smelling sweetly of wood bine and wall-dowers, are to be seen there ; hut in their stead, ruin, desolation and loneliness. One looks around, in wonder that aught so dreary, so untrodden, should yet remain in this busy, active land : and yet there are signs that it was not always so. vol. i. 1 — * See that great ghost of a house yonder on the hill, with walled-up windows and smokeless chimneys, and never a tree or a shrub near it. It was not always so !

Walk a little farther, and you find yourself on the brink of a deep ravine ; see that long low house', with its gabled windows and ancient terraced garden, where still a few myrtles and roses linger : the house is tenantless and in ruins. It was not always so ! The whole of the country in which are laid the scenes of the fodowing chapters, gives one the idea of a region once much more thickly peopled than at present, or at least peopled by a greater number of men of substance than is now the case. Every here and there, on hill or in valley, you find a man sion once comfortable, and apparently intended for persons of a better class of life, now occupied by the small farmer, its spacious rooms turned into granaries, or quite shut up and deserted. Various reasons are given for this condition of things : one undoubtedly is, that the district is far removed from any towns and the conveniences necessary for life in the present day ; so that almost all those who could afford it have gradually been drawn nearer to the centres of activity and commerce, and to the great advantages of society.

Hence, the neighbourhood is but thinly inhabited, and its larger houses, once the THE HOME OF THE DAWSONS. 9 scenes of a somewhat free hospitality, are mostly abandoned. To the lovers of natural beauty, however, the country is most attractive. A short distance inland, it is indeed bleak and exposed; the Atlantic blast sweeps unimpeded over the hills ; but few trees are visible, and those that are seen turn their faces from the sea breeze and bend croucbingly towards the east, as if to escape its bitterness. But draw nigh to the sea, and the most delicious sights burst on your view : deep velvety combes, with their sloping sides, of oak and furze, or heather ; every combe possessing its own garrulous brook, and terminated by its tri angular piece of blue ocean glittering in the sunshme, or darkened by passing clouds.

We have said that the country is thinly inhabited. It was always so ; but not to such an extent as at present. It was also far away from pubbc observa tion, and the watchful oversight of authority ; hence, wild and idegal acts took place not unfrequently, long after the period of our story, and justice was very slow in taking notice of them, if, indeed, they ever reached the ears of justice. Few of the gentry of that date paid duty to the king, either for their own port wine, or for the silken garments of their wives. In a certain corporate town that we wot of, whenever a team of horses passed through with smuggled goods — a thing of no very rare occurrence — all eyes were shut, and the chief magistrate generally found a handsome present from France in bis garden, by way of thanks, next morning.

And, perhaps, he was a wise man, for not only did be thus receive a plentiful supply of good wine, but he prevented the shedding of blood ; a thing very likely to have hap pened, had be, or his officers, ventured to take the kegs instead of receiving them. Those times have passed away, but all the memo ries of them have not. One such memory stdl clings around the old house of Harscourt. In the days of which we write, Harscourt was not a very ancient structure ; at least, not the principal and largest part. It stands even as it stood then, three or four hundred yards from the cliffs, at the head of a deep gully which runs down to the sea. Just round the house the trees are few and stunted, but in the glen to the right some fine timber is to be fouud. The front, or new part of the house, bad no pre tensions to architectural beauty, but promised large and well-lit rooms.

Behind was the old house, rambling and rather dilapidated, with the exception of a fine old hall, given over to the servants THE HOME OF THE DAWSONS. 11 and the numerous hangers-on of the stables and home farm. There was a small flower-garden on one side of the house, surrounded on three sides by high stone walls, and opening, on the fourth, by a flight of steps into a grass-field, bounded by the cliffs. Such was the neighbourhood and house of Harscourt. We must now take a glance at some of its inhabitants in their childish days.

Chapter II

"THE SEAGULLS IN THEIR NEST." " Let us go home over the cliff, Edward ; the tide is rismg fast." The speaker was a girl about ten years old, tall for her age, and slender, with light brown hair, bleached from exposure and neglect, streaming over her shoulders. Her eyes were hazel-coloured, with long black lashes, and her complexion, naturally dark, was rendered many shades darker by the sun. Her small, wed-formed bare feet, as they pressed the short turf, were the fairest thing about her. She was dressed in a coarse sort of smock-frock, of no particular fashion, and a hood with a deep cape hanging down to her waist. She had two companions — lads — one three or four years older than herself, a sturdy, handsome fellow, the other much about her own age, and greatly resembling her. " Oh, Tye !

" exclaimed the younger boy, " the cliff is so much farther round, and the hill is so steep, and I'm so tired, let us go the shorter way, by the beach ; " and seating himself on the turf, he laid a string of a dozen speckled trout beside him. " If you go by the beach," said the elder lad, " you must come at once. Put on your shoes, Tye, and make haste. If you are quick we may manage it, but the waves run high." In a few moments they were sliding down a low part of the cliff, over which the stream they had been rifling fell splashing into a deep pool on the beach. The shore was composed of large round pebbles, no very easy walking for those little weary feet. But the girl kept up steadily by the side of her elder companion, in spite of many a stumble. Presently they came to where the cliff rises into a precipice, and vast blocks of stone jutting out into the sea seem to prevent all further progress ; but the children knew the coast well, and climbed like goats.

See ! now they stand all three on a great rock, pause, and look where next to spring. The eldest springs first, and calls to the girl to follow. She is over, her arms round the boy to steady herself. They totter for a moment, then regain their footing, and she slides off the rock to make room for Regie. Another spring, another totter, and they are over that danger, in a little cove, wiiere, instead of rough stones and rugged rocks, small white pebbles form their path. However smooth the path, there is no time for loitering. " We must run ; we shall thus gaiu a few mo ments," said Edward, " and moments are of import ance to us : the tide is higher than I thought." They run as well as they are able, and now they reach another barrier, higher and more jagged than the first. They climb, they scramble, keeping as near the cliff as they can, for the tide is close upon them.

" The Blower ! " muttered Edward ; " if the tide is in it, we are in danger." The younger boy caught the word : " The Blower, Edward ! oh, let us go back ! " " Impossible ! " was the reply. " We could not pass the Foot, now. Courage ! steady ! be as quick as you can ; we must leap the Blower ! " " We have leaped it before, you know, Edward," said the girl. " Yes," thought Edward ; " but not in such a tide as this." They stood at the edge of the dreaded Blower, which is formed by several gigantic masses of rock thrown together. Under one of these, the sea forces its way ; it is not above three or four feet across, and about eight feet deep, and may easily be crossed at low tide ; but it is a different thing when the sea, boiling and surging in the narrow channel, renders the head giddy and the foot unsteady.

Edward leaned over ; the water was gurgling at the bottom. " We have time ! " he cried ; " quick ! " — but as he spoke there came a booming and hissing, and a volume of water rushed up through the aper ture, drenching them in a moment. " Jump between the waves ! " he cried, and suit ing the action to the word, in a moment he w7as over. " Come, Regie," and he held out his bands : the boy jumped clear and was safe. " Now, Tye, quick ! " The child was over-tired, she paused, she trembled, she let the favourable moment pass, and then she jumped — jumped short, and was in the Blower. The wave receded : Tye stood supported by a small ledge of rock, clutching a projecting angle with both hands. She could not hope to buffet many waves — certain destruction seemed to await her. " She must be saved, she shall be saved !

" cried the frantic boy. But only the helpless children heard him, and the sea-birds started from their nests atdiis cries. Poor Tye ! the seconds were like years to her ! All the little incidents of her short life rose up before her, and in a moment she thought how sorry- Edward and Regie would be, and how they would miss her. A wave came : fortunately for her, not a strong one ; but as it was, she only retained her hold by creeping closer between two of the rocks, while the water nearly suffocated her : as the wave went back Edward was at her side. " Put your foot on my hand, and spring." The child obeyed, and in a few seconds she was on the top of the rock ; but her deliverer was still in the Blower. " Lie down, Regie, and put your hands over the rock, with the backs downwards;" and Tye called on Edward to hook his hands in theirs.

The ready wit of the girl saved the life of her friend ; a violent wave at that moment burst through the Blower, and Edward was lifted by its force on a level with the rock. " Pull towards you, Regie — pull hard ! " and in spite of the dreadful surf, in a moment Edward was by their side, drenched to the skin, and tre mendously bruised : as was poor little Tye ; while the blood flowed in a stream from a deep cut on her temple. On again! over more rock, slipping and cutting themselves with the sharp edges of the slate, till they reach a broad open beach, where the sea beats less wildly. The cliffs here are lower again : it is the mouth of another of those combes with which that coast abounds. At the farther side a pretty trout-stream finds its way to the sea. The children were hurrying towards the stream, as its banks form the easiest path to the hills above, when a man suddenly appearing from behind a rock called on them to stop.

" Where do you come from ? Who are you ? Where are you going ? " " We come from Merscombe, and we are going to Harscourt — and now let us go on," said Edward ; " the evening is closing in ; we have a long way before us, and are late enough as it is." " You must wait till it suits my pleasure to let you go, my man ; and if it's my pleasure for you to stay here all night, you must stay." "Oh! pray don't," cried the child, coming for ward, " pray don't ! we shall be so beaten if you do." " Beaten ! who'll beat you ? " vol. I. "Father." "Why, bless the child, how did you get that ugly cut on your forehead ? And you are dripping wet. What on earth have you been about ? " " I've been in the Blower," replied Tye, shuddering. " In the Blower ! and how did you get out again ? " " He got me out," was the reply, with a jerk of the head towards Edward.

" But do let us go home, there's a dear good man ! I am so cold ! " Now the little damsel did not at all like the looks of the rough man beside her, and she bad her own suspicions of his goodness ; but, child as she was, she knew the use of flattery. The man seemed to hesitate, a gleam of intedi gence shot over Tye's face as she watched the man's eyes directed towards the opening of the glen, where the stream came down. " I know ad about it," said she, nodding her head mysteriously, " you are hiding or running something up there ; but if you wdl let us go we wdl be blind, and if w7e chance to see anything we wid not tell : we are accustomed not to speak of what we see. You can trust them, too," she added, pointing to the boys : " can't he, Edward and Regie ? " The man looked at her in astonishment.

" You're a queer article, at any rate," he muttered. " On our honour, sir," began Edward — " Your honour, indeed ! Ha ! ha ! a good joke. But this child must not be kept here, she'll die of cold. Wait a bit ; — I'll see what I can do." The morning had been one of those bright sunny mornings so common in early spring, which tempt the fisherman and invalid out, and then as the day advances, the sky clouds over, and driving mist takes the place of sunshine. The three huddled together as close as they could to keep each other warm, but with poor success. The man went up by the stream, and in a quarter of an hour, which had seemed an age to the children, he reap peared. " Come along," he said, " and if they speak to you, speak up for yourselves." There was a strange party and a strange scene presented to their view, as they rounded the corner of the cliff and advanced about twenty paces up the glen.

Four or five young men were seated in an angle of the rock, a meal spread out before them. There were long-necked wine-bottles from France, and squat, sturdy bottles of spirits from Holland, looking decidedly as if they had never paid the 2—2 king's duty. And there was a bale or two lying near, looking suspicious of Lyons silk or Genoa velvet. The principal personage seemed to be not more than four or five and twenty ; with fair hah and a fair complexion, his eyes were grey and restless, and a smile seemed ever on his lips : yet it was not a natural, pleasant smile. "Who are you, in the name of wonder?" he shouted to the little ghl, who advanced in front of her companions. " I'm Gratiana Dawson," was the replv. " Whew ! " whistled the young man, elevating his eyebrows ; " what, Dawson of Harscourt's daughter ?

You look more like a beggar-girl than a gentleman's daughter." " I've been out fishing, and tumbled into the Blower," answered Tye, apologetically, colouring deeply, and looking down at her shabby and be drabbled attire. " And who is the little fellow ? Your brother ? " Yes : he is Reginald." " And the other ? " " Oh, that's Edward." "Edward who?" " Edw7ard Mountjoy." " THE SEAGULLS IN THEIR NEST." 21 " What, Agnes jiMountjoy's son ? She who lives in the vale ?" " Yes." " Tunny, you must see after that lad ; there's good blood of our sort in his veins, if he takes after his father." " I'll see to it, Mr. Martin ; but now let the children go, it's getting late." " You had better give them the password, Tunny ; and mind, young ones, you've seen nobody." The man addressed as Tunny, and whom the children knew by name, accompanied them a little way up the glen.

" If any one asks you if ' the moon is up,' say the ' seagulls are in their nests,' " said Tunny, as he turned back to take up his w7atch on the beach once more. And the trio went on their way through the mist.

Chapter III. Looking Out Foamward

We have mentioned the bouse at Harscourt ; now we will give a faint sketch of its master, such as be was at the commencement of our story. He was a notorious person, possessed of one of the best estates in the neighbourhood, and inheriting a name that bad more than once been distinguished in the annals of the country ; he had been sent to Eton, from thence to college, and finally to make the grand tour of Europe. Mr. Dawson gained but little from these advantages. Left an orphan at an early age, he had never known control. And as he was naturally of a violent and morose temper, he had become so overbearing and dictatorial, that he was universally disliked ; w7bilst eontmual indul gences (a fault, alas ! not uncommon in those days) in strong drink, had inflamed bis passions, so that at times he lost all control over himself, and acted like a madman.

LOOKING OUT FOAMWARD. 23 During his residence abroad, he had married a French lady, lovely, gentie, and well born. Hers was a sad lot : transplanted from the sunny vine yards of the south of France, to that rude mansion on the Atlantic cliffs, she did not long survive the change. Her youngest chfld was scarce a twelve month old, when she suddenly died. She had long been ailing and fading away, it is true ; but her death, for all that, seemed too sudden to be accounted for. Strange things were whispered as to bow there was an ugly bruise discovered on the pale corpse ; but nothing ever came of the whispers : for Mr. Martin, of Cross, who was in the bouse when she died, said she fed down in a fit and struck herself against the table ; so the matter blew over, though a sort of vague impression remained on the minds of many, never to be effaced, that there had been unfair dealing in the business.

The two chddren were given into the charge of Agnes Mountjoy, the smuggler's widow, who had been Mrs. Dawson's chief companion — for she too was a stranger in the land — and spoke the French tongue purely and softly. For a whde Mr. Dawson shut himself up, and withdrew from all society, save that of Mr. Martin. After a time, he emerged a little from this seclusion, and would now and then attend the petty sessions at Matton, eight miles off; and he soon became renowned as one of the most severe men on the bench ; none escaped him — he seemed to rejoice in punishing guilty and innocent alike. The principal entrance into Harscourt House was on one side, by a door which led directly into the had, a fine room, with a wide open chimney and carved chesnut roof. Within again was a smaller ball, connecting the two parts of the house, out of which the different passages and staircases led.

The great hall was the usual living room of Mr. Dawson and his companions. The two poor chddren on their return from their fishing expedition, with the dread of a beating before them for having long outstayed their usual time, bad tried to make their entry unperceived, by a back door; but finding it locked, they were forced to enter by the hall, and found themselves at once face to face with " the Tyrant of Harscourt," as their father was commonly called. A stout, coarse-looking man met them on the very threshold with an outburst of passion : the children, only too accustomed to such treatment, kept a re spectful distance — words could not break bones, and as long as their father confined himself to words, they did not particularly mind. It happened, how- LOOKING OUT FOAMWARD. 25 ever, unfortunately for them, that Mr. Dawson had been indulging in drink more than usual, and was just at that moment in one of those moods in which he was most dangerous.

" Why don't you speak, you obstinate jade ? I'll teach you to hold your tongue when I want an answer ! " he shouted at Grace, who had stood with out uttering any reply to his repeated questions as to where she had been ; and seizing a glass from the table, he hurled it at the child's head. Grace saw what was coming, and bent her head, while in a moment the glass was shivered to atoms against the wall behind her. The girl, overwrought, excited, frightened, burst into an hysterical laugh at her assailant's failure. He was by her in a moment, a heavy hunting-whip in his hand. " Run, brother, run ! " she cried, " or you'll be murdered as well as me." The boy flew away, and his sister received all the weight of the wldp across her face and shoulders, causing the wound on her forehead to burst out bleeding afresh.

" Dawson ! I say, Dawson ! " exclaimed a man, coming forward, " I'm not going to stand by, and see this chdd used in that way. Remember, we've had enough of that sort of thing here before now. Bed and supper are what she wants more than beating ; let her go, I say ! " " I won't be interfered with in this house, I can tell you, Martin. Look after your own chddren, and I'd look after mine," blustered the drunken bully. But Mr. Martin was not to be turned from bis purpose, and be drew the brute back to the table ; giving poor trembling Grace an opportunity of escape. She was hardly past the door, when a new paroxysm of rage seized her father, and he attempted to follow her ; but failing m his purpose, he consoled himself by ordering that the chddren should be kept on bread and water for a -week, and not be adow-ed to stir outside the doors.

Gratiana had a spice of her father's temper hi her : she was violent and wilful, but generous and devoted in her love. She would rather have had every bone in her body broken, than that Reginald should get into trouble ; and she forgot her own heavier punishment in trying to comfort Reginald over bis spare supper. For herself, she formed the great and heroic resolve of starvbig herself to death, rather than eat dry bread and be beaten ; and long after Regie was in bed and asleep, she sat by the window LOOKING OUT FOAMWARD. 27 looking out at the sea, picturing to herself how horror-stricken her father would be when he found her stiff and stark from cold and hunger, and how he would repent and mourn over her body. Then, again, she determined to run away; and imagined herself a very rich and grand lady (though bow she was to become so was not veiy clear), driving in a fine coach with four horses along the streets of London, and passing a poor beggar -man, who was her father, reduced by his wickedness to beg his bread ; and how she said, " I am your daughter, whom you treated so cruelly7, giving me dry bread ; and beating me with a riding whip."

She was too much absorbed in her meditations to notice that the door had been opened, and that some one stood near her. " Miss Grace, are you not in bed yet ? " asked the intruder. " Oh ! Damaris ! how you frightened me ! " cried the child, suddenly roused from her heroic dreams. " Hush ! don't make a noise ; I know you don't like dry bread, so I managed to get you something else. Here, take it quick, or they'll miss me in the kitchen." " And then they will beat you, as they beat me : you shoidd not have come, Damaris. I don't mean to eat anything any more. I wish I was dead ! oh ! how I wish I hadn't got out of the Blower, and then he would have been sorry. The rocks ain't as hard as he is, nor the sea as fierce ! " " Hush, Tye ! pray hush, or they wid surely hear you. Good-night now," and Damaris, herself a child in years, strove to comfort her young mistress by a gentle caress, and then slid down the stairs again to her proper position among the pots and pans.

But the child sat stid on the window-seat, looking out into the night, and weaving dreams for days yet to come ; and a soft sighing noise went through the room (a sound the girl had so often heard that she feared it uot), a sound as of a mother mourning over her child.

Chapter IV. Hat Harvest

The spring had ripened into summer, and in the sheltered valleys bay harvest had begun. The doors of Harscourt stood open, and the house was deserted by all, save the woman who rejoiced in the dignity of Mr. Dawson's housekeeper : an ugly7, hard, ill-favoured -woman, who bullied and tyran nized over all within her reach. " Hay harvest," as they call it in the west, — " haymaking time," as it is called elsewhere — w7as a busy, important affair at Harscourt. In those days furze and bracken flourished where now, with good management, you may see rich hayfields and shocks of corn. Turnips and mangel were unknown ; and on saving the hay7 depended the well-being of the live stock of the farm, to say nothing of the ten or dozen horses which the owner of Harscourt kept. For the last week or so there had been brewings of strong beer, and brewings of weak ; and now there were extensive drinkings of both, along the slopes of Greenfield Glen, and in the meadows at the bottom of the Combe, where the grass was tall and high, and where still might be found a few remain ing whitsundays, or sweet-scented narcissus, while in the hedges the larger periwinkle and columbine offered tempting treasures for a wild nosegay.

For several weeks after the fishing expedition to Merscombe, Reginald and Gratiana were kept strict prisoners. Mr. Dawson determined to take them in hand, and every day they were consigned to the care of a pedagogue, whose attainments were below the average amount of knowledge that a lad would pick up in a second-class of a country national school at the present day : Grace seated at one end of the table, with a book before her, casting longing glances at the bright sun and fields, and Regie at the other, his hands and clothes stained and bespattered with ink, struggling hard to copy an immense flourishing D which headed the copy: " Due respect should be paid to superiors." In Regie's scrawling hand, " Due respect should " was the extent that got into one fine. The pedagogue, William Jenkins by name, was seated in a so called easy chair, pipe in mouth and can in hand.