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3025 II Repair Manual 50940485 2015

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ZF Multitrac Axle MT-L 3010 3015 3020 3025 II Repair Manual 50940485
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 the Angel Inn ballroom. I saw him push through the crowd and I
came here expecting him. I love him and could not love another,—
and—and—and—Oh—Ande,—can't you see?"
Change darkness into sunlight and my feelings can be expressed.
The full light of all seemed to burst upon my vision and dazed me;
then as I saw more clearly, I recollect her stretching her arms
toward me, and my leaping forward to clasp that wavering form.

Here the incident in the diary closes, and it remained for others to
relate what happened afterward. They sat down again in the arbour
and her head was on his shoulder.
"And you did love me, after all," said Ande, and the old, happy, boyish
smile illuminated his features.
"I have always loved you from that moment at the gate of the
Primrose Cottage, so many years ago. Forgive me for the doubt I put
you in, but you looked so doleful at my first words that I could not
resist the old mischievous spirit."
He leaned down and kissed her lips, and there was a long silence,
unbroken save by the chirping birds and rustling leaves. A short time
afterward thither came the veiled, elderly lady, accompanied by the
Major.
"Alice, child, art here? I have found him, Major Trembath, my
husband."
"Mother!" joyfully cried the young man, as he flung himself into her
arms.
"How tall you are, son Ande," said his mother, after their first
affectionate greeting; "yes, as tall as your father, and"—here she
turned her gaze upon Alice—"you have found a sister along with
myself."
"No, not sister, but my affianced wife," said Ande, proudly.
"And I can call you daughter in reality," said happy Mrs. Trembath, as
she kissed her affectionately.
But now the Bowling Green became crowded with people. The ball
was over. Gentlemen and tradespeople mingled in the sight-seeing of
the great event of that memorable day—the wrestling. A space had
been cleared and roped off in the centre of the Bowling Green, and
soon forth came the gladiators, great, tall, muscular fellows, farmers
from the country, miners from the tin mines, and seamen from
Penzance and the Lizard Point. The men from the Lizard were great,
giant-like men over six feet in stature. The spectators watched with
intense interest. Jack Trewlan, anxious once more for honours, was
among them, but went down and out of the lists in the very first
contest. The poorest wrestlers were disposed of first, and then came
men of the first class. Among the latter was a great Lizard Point fellow,
—a veritable Goliath in size. Six feet, six inches he stood in his
stocking feet and weighed fully two and twenty stone. The
measurement of his chest was fifty-three inches, of his waist thirty-
nine, of his arms—the right biceps—nineteen inches, the left—a trifle
less; his limbs were in proportion to his other measurements. A wild
cheer went up from the Lizard men as he stood forth in the roped
arena. He had easily vanquished all his fellows,—the great Lizard
fellows were as wooden men in his powerful grasp,—and he was
entitled to do battle with the champion.
There was another cheer, mainly from the tin miners and farmers, as
the champion of Cornwall, Tom Glaze, the victor of nineteen pitched
battles, came forth to do battle for the twentieth time for the position
he held. The champion was not near so tall or heavy as his opponent,
but he was stoutly and toughly built; his muscles were iron-like with
constant practice, and in his many battles he had gained that
dexterity, cautiousness, tack and trickiness, that was characteristic and
essential to a champion.
"A tough opponent, Tom," said one of the gentlemen.
"The bigger they are the heavier they fall," said Tom, and yet there
was a little doubt in his mind as he sized up the Goliath before him. A
moment they stood, their white duck wrestling jackets in relief against
the background, and then they closed into action. The young Lizard
fellow was cautious and wary. Tom Glaze seized his favourite hold,—
the celebrated Cornish hug, and back and forth they wavered, but the
young Colossus seemed to have his great limbs, like pillars, firmly
rooted in the ground. Glaze was as agile as a panther, twisting and
trying trick after trick. Once he nearly had him on the hip and a hoarse
"Huzza" and "Bravo" went up from many throats,—but it was only a
partial success. The young Lizard fellow now tried to bring into play his
great strength, but every grasp was eluded. Glaze had not been
champion so long without learning many things.
"At un, Tom, thraw un down!" cried the men of Helston and the miners
to their champion.
"At un, lad, heave un over thy 'ead!" exclaimed the Lizard and
Penzance men to their partisan.
"Wait a bit," said a Lizard man, with a knowing wink to a companion,
"wait a bit, till 'e uses 'is strength; our man is only playing with un, I
tell'ee."
"Ah, dear, dear,—us thought Glaze 'ad un then; but 'e's up again."
"Bravo! Bravo!" shouted the men of Penzance and the Lizard, and they
fairly danced with delight, as Glaze went partially down.
"No fall!" bawled the referee.
"Ah was a fall, sure enough!" shouted an excited Lizard fellow; "I seed
un."
"Seed un," snorted Tommy Puckinharn, who was near at hand; "thee
doesn't mean to say thee seed un with they great, fishy eyes of thine,
do 'ee?"
"Ah was a fall," persisted the Lizard man.
"'Twasn't," said Tommy.
"Ah was."
"What's the use of saying ah was when ah wasn't," said Tommy,
philosophically.
"'Ere, 'ere, no fighting," said a town beadle, as he came up to preserve
peace.
The wrestlers after a brief rest again approached each other. Now in a
crouching position they circle around each other, each waiting for an
opportunity for a good hold. Suddenly they spring forward like tigers.
It was a collar and elbow hold; they tugged, strained, now pushing,
now pulling. Determination is on the features of each. It is apparent
that the young giant is exerting his strength to the utmost. He is
slowly pushing Glaze backward. Glaze gave way slowly and then with a
smile and a twist and a sudden jerk—
"Huzza! Huzza! Glaze forever!" bellowed the Helston men. The young
Lizard giant had gone, like a crashing oak, to the ground.
"No fall," bawled the referee. The Lizard gladiator had but fallen to his
knees and was soon up again, and the contest was renewed.
"Man alive! Did 'ee see un? 'E went down like a kibbel in a shaft," said
one tin miner to another. The one addressed answered not, but kept
shouting to Glaze:
"The Carnish ankle kick, boy! Kick un in the ankle, and poke un over!"

"Another case of Corineus and the giant Gog-ma-gog,"[8] said Captain

Tom Lanyan to his friend, the Major.
[8] Wrestling match of Corineus, the Trojan, and Gog-ma-gog on Plymouth
Hoe—"Polyolbion," Michael Drayton, 1563-1631.

"Aye, possibly," said the Major.

On went the wrestling match, with the advantage at one moment to
Glaze, at another to the young opponent. Glaze seemed the better in
agility and wrestling tricks, but his skill in these things were offset by
the giant's strength and wariness. The crowd from a wildly shouting
mass became silent, and were alertly watching every movement of the
straining figures. They were at last becoming aware of what Glaze
knew for quite a time. The champion had met his match. He knew it,
for with all of his skill he was unable to overcome his opponent. But
what was still more manifest was that the young Lizard giant, with all
of his strength, could not conquer the old, wrestling hero.
The time was up at last, and there were stout huzzas for both as they
shook hands. The decision went to Glaze, not on falls, but on points,
as he showed the greater skill.
Then Glaze held up his hand for silence and began to speak.
"I want to congratulate my opponent on his stout defence, and say 'e's
the hardest man I ever met in a wrastling match."
There was a roar of cheers, and then when silence came, he
continued:
"Men, you knaw the decision is just as to points. My opponent could
not thraw me, as 'ee have seen, and I couldn't thraw 'im. Now, I'm
getting old for the ring, and am about going to quit wrastling. This is
my last battle. I 'ave only waited until I could find the man I couldn't
thraw, and now I've found un, I give to him the championship and all
the honours of the position. What do 'ee say? Is it right?"
There was silence for a moment, and then, after the import of Glaze's
generous offer became more fully understood, there was a resounding
cheer that went up again and again. The people knew that, next to
Glaze, there was none more capable or worthy of defending the
championship of Cornwall than the young Lizard giant.
"Do ye know, lad, who the young Lizard chap was?" asked the Major
of Ande,—but Ande was gone. Both wrestlers had been taken up on
the shoulders of the crowd and carried, with various shoutings, to the
Angel Inn. Ande followed, pushing and shoving his way through the
crowd. When he entered the Inn, he shouted, "Where's the
champion?"
"He's up in his room, changing his clothes," said the landlord.
Ande pushed his way up the stairs and opened the door of the room
indicated.
"Dick, Dick, Dick, old fellow!"
"Ande,—why bless——"
The two friends were locked in each others arms. Then came a time of
explanation. Dick had passed through the Rough Waters of the
Lycamahonings safely. He who had breasted the breakers of the Lizard
could easily take care of himself in the rapids. He was wounded, to be
sure, and the struggle through the rapids had exhausted him, but he
was picked up in the river and for some time was in the care of the
good settlers of Kittanning; then he had returned.
"You must come back with me to see my father and mother and my
intended wife," said Ande. Ande insisted, and Dick yielded. They
passed out through the inn and down to the Bowling Green. There
were Major Trembath, Mrs. Trembath and Mistress Alice Vivian, to
each of whom Dick was successively introduced.
"What's wrong, Dick?" asked Ande. Dick was staring with all his eyes
at the Major, and then he burst forth in answer:
"Why, bless me, Ande, if the Major and old Hunter Tom are not the
same, they are brothers."
"The same, Dick, lad," said the Major, smilingly, and Dick again
grasped his hand and shook it warmly.
"I never expected to see you and Ande again, and I can't say how glad
I am that things have turned out as they have," said Dick.
He explained how he had returned to his people, who had long
mourned him as dead, and how overjoyed they were to see him. He
was now a prosperous, independent farmer of the Lizard, and was also
preparing to enter the shipbuilding trade. "Thanks be," said he, in an
undertone to Ande, "to the mines of Sierro Do Frio."
 CHAPTER XXXI
ANDE'S REVENGE

——"A grudge, time out of mind begun,

And mutually bequeathed from sire to son."

—
T
a
t
i
a
n
.

"Lanyan forever! Lanyan forever!"

"Trembath forever! Trembath forever!"
The old town of Helston was a roaring, gesticulating mass, and the
shouting of bellowing partisans reverberated up and down Coinage
Hall Street. Crowd met crowd, waving their respective banners,
opprobious names were shouted, fists flung in the air, and a special
force of officers were busy from early morn quieting unruly fellows,
some of them more stirred by the spirits of the Angel Inn than the
spirits of politics. It was the period of the election for the Reform
Parliament. Sir James Lanyan had come forth on the old party
platform, and, most unexpectedly, in opposition to him, came Andrew
Trembath. The latter had made himself eligible by the purchase of the
Primrose Cottage, thus making himself a landholder of forty shillings
annual value.
Towards noon the crowds converged upon the Bowling Green, where
upon a raised platform sat the Mayor, the town functionaries, the
candidates, and their proposers and seconds.
The figure of Sir James was just as tall as of old; the same eagle nose
and piercing eyes; the same easy, urbane manner and distinguished
appearance. The Conservatives admired him. His wealth, astuteness,
experience, all urged the necessity of his return to the forum of
government. There was an easiness of manner in the very position Sir
James occupied that augured well his own hopes of the coming
election. Why should he not have hopes? The interests of the landed
party were all back of him. The Godolphins and all their followers were
in his train. Reform measures were dangerous in their eyes to the
staid health, political, of the country.
On the left, Andrew Trembath was not so easy in his mind. Sir James
was an old general, and he knew it; but within Ande's breast was the
buoyant hopes of youth. Here was the first stroke of revenge against
an ancient foe. Could Sir James be beaten in his cherished hopes, and
that by an upstart of a hated family, the more triumph.
The preliminary proceedings were gone through rapidly. Sir James,
with a good bit of wisdom, had selected as his proposer a retired
country gentleman and as his second a tradesman of Helston, thus
drawing from the sympathy of both classes. The proposer, however,
weakened his cause by his interlarding his speech with many classic
quotations, learned no doubt when he was a lad at Eton, and also by a
most unfortunate mentioning of the stain of treason on the name of
the opposing candidate. Sir James, himself, though he sympathised
with his proposer, felt irritated that he should make such a blunder,
and a slight frown passed over his placid features.
The proposer of Andrew Trembath was none other than the Reverend
Mr. Trewan, headmaster of the Grammar School. In a short, neat
speech, and with a few, withering remarks, he scattered the
arguments of the proposer's speech in favour of Sir James. Then
speaking of his candidate, Andrew Trembath, he referred to his being
a scholar of his own school, his honesty, uprightness, and his grasp
upon the problems that were stirring old England to her very centre,
and closed with an able plea for the seating of ability, though that
ability was young. There were strong cheers and many "hears!" from
the crowd on its conclusion. But none of these preliminary cheers were
so hearty as those which greeted the second, as he arose to greet the
audience. And no wonder, for the seconder of Mr. Trewan's speech was
the new champion of Cornwall, Dick Thomas. Sir James looked a trifle
worried, for he saw the diplomacy in the choice of these. The
headmaster of the Grammar School had weight, and Dick Thomas had
the hearts of the commonality. The speech which he made was
homely enough, and demonstrated that he was, as he said, more a
man of action than one of words. But he was Dick Thomas, and Dick
Thomas was a host.
Sir James arose with a look of relief on his features. He was a man
accustomed to deal with the masses, and wished to offset, as much as
possible, the blunders of his own proposer and the enthusiasm of the
crowd over the speeches of the opposition. His speech was replete
with smooth phrases, and the whole was conducted to the close with
the arguments of a logician and the subtility of an old parliamentarian.
He demonstrated that he had a clear grasp on the problems of the
day, and the temper of the people toward them, but what he did not
know was the growing popular estimation of himself among the
masses. They were getting to realise that Sir James Lanyan was a
"trimmer" and was more for Sir James Lanyan than anything else. He
said in part:
"For upwards of a dozen years I have served the people of this section
as their representative in the House of Commons, and I trust that, at
this time, the confidence of the electors, that they have manifested so
often heretofore in my experience and labours, will still remain with
me. [Hisses and groans.] These are stirring times and the storms have
swept over, again and again, the ship of state, threatening to founder
her, and reduce the civilisation of the grandest and most enlightened
country under the sun to a melancholy wreck and ruin, battered and
beaten by every sea, and a prey of the pirates of Europe. To a careful
observer, what perils threaten our country? The spirit of the old-time
Luddites has again broken forth in the wrecking of machinery and
ruthless destruction of property, and there is trouble and turmoil on
every side that, unless checked by the firm hand of a Conservative
government, will bring anarchy and ruin. In the midst of all these
movements come our friends of the opposition with their so-called,
universal panacea of Reform. Reform! Reform what?
"Would you reform the introduction of machinery? We cannot do it. If
the people themselves could see the benefits of the oncoming flood of
invention, they would not desire to do it. With the vision of a prophet I
clearly see the time when business shall be enlarged, living become
cheaper, wages higher, all on account of the increased output and
increased commerce brought and caused by the introduction of
machinery. Will this affect Cornwall? To-day, Cornwall has nothing but
her farms, her fisheries and her mines, but with the advent of new
machinery will come the spreading of new factories, until even within
the 'Delectable Duchy' shall roar and sound the noise of spindles,
giving employment to thousands of Cornishmen and their children.
The increased wealth of the country will add to the price to be
obtained for fish commodities and farm products, and there will be an
era of prosperity for the hardy miner, fisherman and farmer such as
they have never dreamed of before. Reform? Shall we reform the
election laws and boroughs. The statement is frequently made that the
election laws give unequal representation, and that there are members
of the Commons not placed there by the people, and it is true; but
abolish the present system and you will purloin from the nation the
services of some of her stoutest pillars. If everything is to depend
upon a wider suffrage and the throwing out of what has been called
pocket boroughs, where would our broad-minded statesmen, who
have, tempo rarily, not the support of the people, come in? Had it not
been for a pocket borough, Burke, that Cicero of English politics,
would never have entered the halls of legislation. Had it not been for
the pocket borough, our most eminent statesmen, North, Flood,
Canning, Plunket, Brougham, and others, equally indispensable, would
not have gained a foothold in the parliamentarian halls. Sheridan,
defeated at Stafford, found support in Ilchester; Grey, refused by
Northumberland, was returned by Tavistock."
Here Sir James was interrupted by a rough, country lout, who said
gravely that he had a question to ask of great importance.
"Well, my man," and Sir James flashed a keen look at him.
"I would like to ask," said the fellow with a leer, "whether m'lord could
lend me half a sovereign?"
The absurdity of the thing gave the audience its desired fun, and a
roar of laughter came from the crowd. But Sir James was not the man
to be put down with the word of a buffoon. With a smile of sarcasm,
he responded:
"Yes, my man, I can lend you not only a half a sovereign, but twenty
sovereigns, when the cause of good government, which I represent,
has prevailed, and then you will need no borrowing, but you will have
so many, easily earned by yourself, that you will want to lend instead
of borrow. The very reason that so many are out of half sovereigns to-
day is because of the mob spirit and discontent stirred up by the
element of so-called reform. I ask whether it was patriotism that
stirred up the agitation for so-called reform? No. It could not have
been that, for the best good of the nation, at the present time,
requires peace and harmony."
Continuing, Sir James referred to the agitation of France that gave
vent to Napoleon, and was interrupted here and there with various
crys of "Tommy-rot!" and "Gammon!" from his opponents, and equally
strong "Hears!" from the Conservative wing, and closed his speech
with a strong plea for the upholding of the old line party.
He was not nearly so confident when he finished as when he began.
He was beginning to realise that there was an undercurrent against
him, personally. His agents had brought him word before of this, but
he had placed it all down to the spirit of the reform movement. But
now he was beginning to realise different. Dick Thomas and Ande's
agents had not been idle in the period of the canvass. Sir James'
conduct in reference to the Trembaths, to the Vivians, and his
crookedness in politics, was fully aired among the voters, and those
who could not be persuaded to vote against the old line policies, were
moved, by the revelation of the unscrupulous conduct of Sir James, to
abstain from voting at all.
There was silence when the new candidate, Andrew Trembath, arose
to respond. Shaking back the tangled masses of auburn hair from his
forehead, he opened his speech in clear, ringing tones. His introduction
demonstrated that he had a tolerably clear perception of the issues of
the day. He spoke feelingly of the popular agitation.
"These riots, this breaking of machinery, this tumult in many parts of
the kingdom, to what is it due? To the spirit of reform? No. Rather is it
due to the desire of the people for better conditions. The time has
come when the voice of the people shall be heard, and that voice
speaks in no uncertain accents. Too long has the government been in
the hands of demagogues who have little to recommend them for
election but corruption; and now all over this fair land of ours the
people have arisen in their might, and demanded an extended
suffrage. It is true, as Sir James has said, that great and good men
have been returned from these pocket boroughs, but that single
advantage can be offset by innumerable and inevitable disadvantages.
These pocket boroughs are generally nests of corruption, held and
dominated by some lord or landholder. The half a dozen or so good
men that were placed in position by them can be offset by the
hundreds of members that are fitter for Newgate than for the
parliamentarian halls."
"Men like James Lanyan," shouted some one in the crowd.
An angry hue was on Sir James' countenance for a moment, but
neither he nor Ande noticed the interruption.
"What right has a green mound in a grassy field or a hayrick to send a
representative, while great and flourishing towns like Manchester and
Sheffield have none?"
"Hear! Hear! Hear!" shouted many in the crowd.
Continuing, Ande took up, one by one, the arguments of the
opposition, and tore them shred by shred, until not a vestige
remained. Then he triumphantly drew from his pocket a perfect
arsenal of facts, culled from Sir James' speech of years ago, when,
turned down for a time by his own party, he sought refuge in the ideas
of reform. The very facts used in his conversation with Squire Vivian,
Captain Tom Lanyan and the others, when around the tea table in
Lanyan Hall so many years ago, and which facts he used in a speech
on the hustings at that time, were quoted now, and they were like
arrows piercing his very soul. The Conservative wing were silent with
consternation, and Sir James looked down, uneasily. Then turning to
the record of Sir James in the Commons, he quoted how he had again
and again voted against the will of his constituents. Then after a few,
withering flights of oratory, which sent the Radicals wild with delight
and chilled the Conservatives into icy stillness, he said:
"And now, members of the Conservative wing, you are going to vote
for a man who has uttered sentiments like these, and acted in this
manner. I need not speak to the members of my own party, I know
their determination for good government, but to you Conservatives.
You are going to vote for a man who has thus betrayed your sacred
trust and thus surrendered your standards to the enemy. What does
all his actions and speaking amount to in your minds? Just this, that
though he is an experienced hand, yet you know not what he stands
for. Like a vacillating weather vane, he is apt to be turned one way or
the other as the interests of Sir James Lanyan may direct."
There was an uproarious "Hear! Hear!" from the Radicals, and the
black looks that the Conservatives turned on Sir James were perceived
by even that worthy himself. He shrugged his shoulders and took on
his indifferent and placid expression. But Andrew Trembath was not
through yet, for he continued bringing up clause after clause of Sir
James' speeches, sweeping the audience fairly off its feet with a
torrent of indignant oratory such as it had never before heard. All the
poetry in his nature, all the passion of years of wrong heaped upon his
family, burst forth then and there. There was no more applause from
any in that assemblage, for they were all so enthralled that they hung
upon each word uttered, riveted their eyes upon each gesture, and
remained motionless like a painted throng. Then turning from
indignant invective, he gazed lovingly over the Bowling Green and
swept his vision around toward the town, and his eyes became misty
with emotion.
"Helston! Dear old Helston!" he exclaimed, and he stretched out his
arms to the town and people, and there was such emotion, tenderness
and love in that tone that the crowd wept though they could not tell
why.

"He opened his speech

in clear, ringing tones"
Sir James' proposer had called him a foreigner in little touch with
English ideals. He proved the contrary. He called vividly to mind the
days spent as a school lad among them, the exciting days of the
hurling match
when Breage was defeated, and men nodded their heads and smiled
as they remembered. Then sweeping into the closing address, he said:
"We need a strong and experienced hand at the helm in these perilous
times, it is true, but far more do we need honesty, virtue, and
manliness. Is youth, though inexperienced, yet with average
intelligence, to be despised and condemned by the very fact of youth?
Ask the rector or parish minister the names of the two most prominent
lights in the expansion of religion, and he will say young Saul and
youthful Timothy. Gray at thirty-four finished the most beautiful elegy
in the English tongue. Milton began his career at a tender age.
Shakespeare was but twenty-seven when his name became an
authority on the drama. Napoleon, in his meteoric career, astonished
and convulsed the world, yet he was a young man. What name more
brilliant in English annals for courage and success than that of the
well-beloved Wolfe of Quebec fame—yet he perished on the field of
battle at the age of thirty.
"Civil government has also her young heroes. Need I mention the
great name of Burke, who, at the age of twenty-six, won for himself a
reputation for statesman-like judgment and skill that has placed his
name high on the imperishable roll of fame. Need I mention Fox, and
that other character who still lives as a blessing in the minds of
Englishmen—still lives as the greatest diplomatist of the age—still lives
in the agitation for liberty and fair representation that so pervades the
country to-day?"
"Pitt! Pitt! Pitt!" roared the crowd.
"Aye, you have named him. Ask any bookman for a life of William Pitt,
and he will hand you down a history of England from 1781 to 1806,
for from twenty-one years of age down to the day of his death, his life
has been a history of the empire. Is youth and inexperience to be
despised? No! No!"
"No! No!" shouted the crowd, taking up the words of the speaker.
"Huzza for Andrew Trembath!" And for the space of a few minutes the
crowd let out its pent-up enthusiasm in wild gesticulating of hands and
roaring of voices.
The speaker concluded with a peroration that was eloquent and
passionate. Pathetic passages at times hushed that great crowd into
silence, moved it to tears, and then again swayed it to applause, and
when it was finished, and the speaker resumed his seat, there was
silence for a moment—then, like the roaring of great guns in battle
action, the throng, Radical and Conservative, sent up shout after
shout, that reverberated again and again o'er the town of Helston, and
caused the birds in the neighbouring trees to take refuge in flight.
Such a speech had never been delivered from the hustings before. Old
men shook their heads sagely, and muttered to each other that in a
short time another Pitt would astonish England and the world, and
that one would be from Cornwall.
Suffice it to say, that Andrew Trembath was elected by an
overwhelming vote as M. P. for Helston.
Old Parson Trant met him the next day near the Primrose Cottage, and
congratulated him on his election and bright, future prospects.
"I had a purpose in view," said Ande. "It was not so much my desire
to enter Parliament as my antagonism to Sir James. I have had my
first revenge, and there are others to follow."
"Lad, lad," said the old parson, as he sadly shook his head, "I like not
that revengeful spirit, though you have had much provocation. There
is a better way of revenge."
"What way?"
"'If thy enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink.'"
Ande said nothing, and the conversation, after a time, passed to other
themes.
After his defeat, Sir James Lanyan gave his attention to speculation,
but the ventures turning out unprofitable, he was compelled to sell
Trembath Manor, through his solicitors, to the agents of a wealthy
American traveller. But this was but a drop in the bucket of his
financial reverses, and Lanyan Hall followed suit. The purchaser of
Lanyan Hall was Andrew Trembath, but the fact was unknown to any
one but old Parson Trant, to whom Ande had confided the secret of his
wealth. Subsequently the purchaser was revealed to Sir James, and
the revelation seemed a crushing blow to him, for he sickened and
began to sink rapidly.
"'Tis my second revenge," said Ande to old Parson Trant, and there
was a grim, determined look on his features. "There are others to
follow."
"Lad, lad, you must not go on in this way. Vengeance is of God.
'Vengeance is mine, I will repay.' There is a much better way, and you
can do me, your old pastor, a favour, and render God a service at the
same time." The old parson drew a pathetic picture of Sir James in his
present condition, poor, helplessly sinking into the grave. To follow up
any more of this revenge was hellish. It belied Ande's nature to
continue thus, and if this revenge should continue, he, the parson,
could not love him any more. There was one thing that would prolong
Sir James' life, and that was the bringing back to him of his son,
Richard, who was leading a wild, vicious life somewhere in London.
This was the report of the physician. "He must be brought back to his
father, who is calling for him. Who is better fitted for that mission than
yourself, Master Ande? You are going to attend Parliament in a few
weeks. Go a little before—aye, go at once to London, and take up this
mission."
"I! I!" stammered Ande, in some astonishment and with a little of the
old, angry feeling tingling in his veins. "You know what we have
suffered—you——"
"But, Ande," interrupted the old rector, as he placed his arm around
his shoulder in the same, affectionate manner as in the olden days,
and with kind, loving tones resumed, "If Christ had felt that way to us,
where would we be?" The old parson preached one of the most
appealing sermons, then and there, that he had ever delivered.
Concluding, he said, quoting the words of Scripture: "'Ye have heard
that it hath been said an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth; but I
say unto ye, resist not evil. Ye have heard that it hath been said, ye
shall love thy neighbour and hate thine enemy; but I say unto you,
love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that
hate you,—that ye may be the children of your Father in heaven.' 'Be
not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.'"
"Would it not be hypocritical to show kindness, when you are bitter
with revenge within?"
"No; by showing kindness, even though you do not feel it within, yet
nevertheless it has a healthy action on the soul. Do a kindness and
you grow kind. We become what we do, my lad. Do it now, not
because of your feelings, but because the Lord commanded it. And by
and by you will do kindness to an enemy because your own heart
commands it."
"I will go in the morning."
"And God will bless you, my son," said the old rector, as he parted
from him and wended his way home. There, the parson mentioned the
matter to his wife, Harriet, with some doubt as to the issue.
"I fear me, Harriet, it is like sending a fire-brand to quench a fire-
brand."
Andrew Trembath was true to his promise, for that week saw him in
London, actively pushing the search. Hearing of a midnight brawl, in
which Richard was engaged, and which was publicly published in the
newspapers, he sought that quarter, but Richard, fearing perhaps the
police, had fled. His father had also heard of the brawl. It was the last
of a series of crushing disgraces on the part of his son that sent Sir
James into the grave. Ande did not give up the search, but Parliament
convening, he was forced to give more time to other affairs.
It was in the early hours of the morning when one of the night
sessions of Parliament adjourned, and Andrew Trembath, tired of the
stupid, blocking tactics of those opposed to reform, was wending his
way home to his rented quarters in Portman Square. The streets were
deserted and he hastened along absorbed in his thoughts. A figure
stole out from the shadow of some buildings in his rear. There was a
quick leap, the glitter of steel in the air, and then Ande felt a stinging
sensation in his shoulder. Like a flash he turned and had his assailant
pinioned in an iron grip. He struggled to release himself, but to no
avail. The knife dropped with a clang to the pavement and Ande
kicked it from him. The light of a street lamp flashed on the would-be
assassin's features.
"Richard Lanyan! You! You! You, who broke your father's heart,—you,
the Etonian scholar,—you, base as you are, stoop to be the assassin!"
"Yes, curse you!" gritted the answer from between the clenched teeth
of the writhing assailant.
"And why?"
"Because you have been the ruin of father, and not I. You occupy his
place in Parliament. You took away Lanyan Hall. You took away the
only woman I ever loved, and it is—revenge."
"Lanyan, listen to me," sternly, and still keeping his grip. Ande related
in brief epitome the injuries he and his and the Vivians had received at
the hands of Richard and his father, closing with the question: "Who
has been the injured party? Your father's place I occupy because the
people put me there. Your father lost Lanyan Hall because of his
foolish speculations. If I hadn't bought it, some one else would. His
death was mainly brought on by your own sottish conduct."
The eyes of Lanyan flamed with sullen passion, as he muttered, "I'll
not endure this from you," and again made an effort to escape.
"Make another effort to escape and I hand you over to the watchman,
or perhaps better still I could kill you where you are. What would the
law and opinion say if I should? They would say it was good riddance
of a rough character and in self-defence, and you see I have the
strength to carry it out."
Lanyan paled a little, notwithstanding the brave heart he had, for he
realised that he was but feeble in the hands of this man, his captor. He
ceased his struggles and listened sullenly.
"But I have other plans," said Ande, gently. "I believe the fellow who
won a prize at Eton is capable of better things. I place the best
construction on your past actions. It was the ungovernable love for
Mistress Alice Vivian that caused much of your past action."
There was no answer.
"I know that was the cause, and also the cause of your whole life
being spent thus, and also of this last attempted deed. And I had been
searching for you for months before your father's death, plunging into
every slum and dive of London. I promised to bring you back to your
father, and thus prolong his days. Your name was the last he called
upon in his delirium. I tried to find you, but failed."
Ande released his grasp, for it was unnecessary. Lanyan was weeping
in an agony of remorse and wretchedness.
"But still the hour is not too late now to begin again in right paths, and
rear up your family name to its former, ancestral honour. You can do
it."
"I cannot," groaned Lanyan, all hatred and vengeance apparently gone
from him. "I cannot; I have no money, and to live honestly in a poor
position——No—No."
"I will help you. Come now, Lanyan, let us forget the past evils
between our families. Oh, think how good God is to prevent you in the
commission of a great crime, this night, that would blast your name
irretrievably. God is better to us both than we deserve. He bestowed
upon us these minds, these souls, and placed us in a beautiful world,
and yet we abuse His gifts. Think, Lanyan, that you and I have souls
to present upright and pure before the great God, the Father. It is a
terrible thing to think that these passions, if we allow them to rule us
here, by God's judgment, they shall rule us in the future. I confess
that my hatred for you and yours has mastered me heretofore, but
Parson Trant preached me a special sermon privately, when he asked
me to seek you, and I have revolved it over and over again in my
mind, and, with God's help, which I prayed for and received, my
hatred is gone. If I had found you before, I should not have spoken to
you in this way. I should have probably mentioned your father's desire
to see you and left. Now it is different. Let the past be past, and here
is my hand."
Lanyan grasped the hand extended to him and there was a wavering
in his voice as he said: