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 The Advocate


 A Novel


 by Charles Heavysege

 Author Of "Saul," "Jephthah's Daughter"
 &c., &c., &c.


 Illustrated by J. Allan
 (Engraved by John Henry Walker After Illustrations By J. Allan)


 Montreal
 Richard Worthington
 Great St. James Street


 1865


 M. Longmoore & Co., Printers



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 hot table of contents


 The Advocate
 hot table of contents
 Chapter 1 ......... 3
 Chapter 2 ......... 6
 Chapter 3 ......... 12
 Chapter 4 ......... 15
 Chapter 5 ......... 21
 Chapter 6 ......... 26
 Chapter 7 ......... 34
 Chapter 8 ......... 48
 Chapter 9 ......... 53
 Chapter 10 ......... 64
 Chapter 11 ......... 70
 Chapter 12 ......... 89
 Chapter 13 ......... 95
 Chapter 14 ......... 104
 Chapter 15 ......... 112
 the end ......... 126



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 Chapter I.


     "Take, oh take those lips away,
     That so sweetly were forsworn;
     And those eyes, the break of day,
     Lights that do mislead the morn:
     But my kisses bring again,
             bring again
             bring again
     Seals of lore, but sealed in vain,<--bad
     Seals of love, but sealed in vain,<--new
          seal'd in rain."<--bad
          seal'd in vain."<--new
     -- _Measure for Measure._


On a bright day during the month of September,
of the year 1800, two persons were in earnest conver-
sation in a lawyer's office in the city of Montreal.
One of them was the most distinguished advocate of
that place; a man of some three score years, and of a
commanding yet wild and singular aspect. His com-
panion was a well-dressed female of middle age, and
comely, though mournful countenance. Some disa-
greeable topic seemed to have just ruffled both of
their tempers, for her face was moist with tears, and
darkened with an expression of disappointment. His
own was slightly marked with annoyance, and, sud-
denly, ceasing to arrange some folded law papers that<--bad
denly ceasing to arrange some folded law papers that<--new
he held in his hands, and had gathered up from the
table at which he was standing, he exclaimed in tones
of mingled surprise and asperity: "Still at the old
song! still harping, harping, harping! Peace, no
more of it. Heaven would be insufferable with but

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one hymn, hell thrice horrible with but one howl,
earth uninhabitable with but one evil. Oh, variety,
what a charm hast thou!"

"Is this, then, all your answer?" enquired the
female, sorrowfully.

"Is it not decisive?" he demanded sharply.
"Woman, away: am I not busy? Is not this the
very Passion week of preparation before the Easter
of the Assizes?" Then with an upward leer of his
eyes, that were now filled with frolicksome humour,
whilst at the corners of his mouth flickered a grim
smile, he continued: "Mona Macdonald, I am neither
selfish nor sensual, though women call me so; not
prone to be provoked to marriage; though Satan in
your shape has for so many years tempted me thereto,
I have still remained in the bachelors' Eden, in spite
of you and the Serpent. Marry you! Do I look in
the humour for mischief? Do I appear vile enough
to commit the unpardonable sin? No, a man may
put himself beyond the reach of mercy by other means
than that."

Mona looked up and sighed, and he continued:

"What more is marriage than mere desert sands,
in which life's current is lost until it reappears in a
parcel of bubbles called babies. What is it but the
fool's end, the knave's means; a warning to the wise,
a snare to the simple; the wantonness of youth, the
weakness of years; a pillory wherein to exercise
patience; what is it but the Church's stocks for the
wayward feet of women. Marry you! To marry is
to commit two souls to the prison of one body; to put
two pigs into one poke; two legs into one boot, two
arms into one sleeve, two heads into one hat, two

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 [Illustration: "Do I seem old enough to be a bridegroom?"]

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 [illustration-backside]

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necks into one noose, two corpses into one coffin, and
this into a wet grave, for marriage is a perennial
spring of tears. Marry! Why should I bind myself
with a vow that I must break, not being by nature
continent and loving? Marry you! Yes, when I
hate you. Have I a siniatrous look to meditate such<--bad
hate you. Have I a sinistrous look to meditate such<--new
mischief? Do I seem old enough to be a bridegroom?
Pish! I am ashamed to be so importuned."

This badinage was uttered with the fire of youth,
combined with the authority of age, accustomed to
be obeyed, and the listener offered no rejoinder; but
the speaker, having approached, gazed into her eyes
with a twinkling smile of mirth, that gradually
changed to one of fondness and pity; and kissing her
respectfully, he added in a soft tone: "Come, come,
how is the maid Amanda, how fares our charming
foundling?"

"Well," was quietly replied.

"Mona, I love that girl," he continued, assuming
a tone of deep sincerity, "for along with the whole
web of your goodness, nature has interwoven into
the fine fabric of her form a thread of my evil -- not
in the grosser sense, -- no, no; still, look after her;
the breath of passion must be stirring in her, and at
her years most maids are tinder to love's dropping
sparks. Remember, there never yet was a nun but
once had tender thoughts. Love comes unto all that
live, and with not less certainty than death's advances
-- nay, even the cold, bony frame of death itself, at
last comes wooing, and elopes with life. Now, home
and cheer your charge." And he playfully pushed
her from the room, then, throwing himself into his
chair, resumed the interrupted study of his briefs.



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 Chapter II.


     "A seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone."
     -- _All's Well That Ends Well._


The advocate was by birth an Englishman, and a
cadet of an ancient family, who, after having spent a
dissolute youth and early manhood, had come to
Canada. Here he became acquainted with an old,
half-pay Highland officer of Wolfe's Army, who for
his signal services rendered during the operations of
the British force before Quebec, had been rewarded
with a grant of land in that vicinity. Like others
of his countrymen, the Highlander had settled in the
Province, and married into a French Canadian family.
But, soon after their union, his wife died in giving<--bad
But, soon, after their union, his wife died in giving<--new
birth to a daughter, which he reared to womanhood
with all the strength of an undivided affection. The
Englishman's frank bearing and singular mental
powers won the admiration of the old soldier, and, at
the same time, dazzled and captivated his comely and
unsophisticated daughter, to whom the stranger was
soon understood to stand in the light of a lover. But
Macdonald -- for such was the name of the warm-
hearted clansman -- was not destined to see his dearest
wishes realized in the union of the two. A sudden
sickness laid low his hardy frame, and, dying, he
called the pair to his bedside, and joined their hands
in anticipation of the rite of wedlock. The father
dead, the lover betook himself to the study of the

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law, and with an extraordinary aptitude and dili-
gence, not only mastered the details of legal practice,
but comprehended, beyond others, the great principles
both of English and of French jurisprudence as prac-
tised in Lower Canada. Ambitious of excellence, he
resolved to complete his studies of the latter in France
itself. Of means he had little, but she, confiding in
his honor, consented that the estate left to her by her
father should be sold, to furnish him with the neces-
sary funds for his maintenance in Paris. In that gay
capital -- whilst taking advantage of libraries, and
sitting at the feet of the Gamaliels of the French Bar,
-- he associated with gamesters and courtezans, and
was at length left with resources barely sufficient to
enable him to return to Canada. Settling in Montreal,
his extraordinary acquaintance with both schools of
law, his impassioned and versatile eloquence, his ready
repartee, his habitual, grim and grotesque humour,
his outrageous sallies of wit, his unmerciful logic, his
fierce invective, his irony, his sarcasm, and his deep,
irresistible scorn, all heightened by his singularly
expressive personal presence, and eyes kindling with
lambent fire, made him a forensic antagonist with
whom few willingly chose to deal. He soon became
the favorite counsel for the defence. Extensive prac-
tice, and its concomitant, a large income, were now
his, and his betrothed, who, in giving him her
fortune, felt as though she had given him nothing
till with it she had given him herself, day by day
looked for the nuptial tie, and at length besought him
to relieve her from what had become a doubtful and
even a dishonorable position. But such was no longer
in his thoughts. Instead of performing towards her

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his long plighted vows, he sent her to a lonely dwel-
ling on the then unpeopled Ottawa to hide her shame.<--bad
ling on the then unpeopled Ottawa to hide her shame,<--new
There she remained till the scandal of their connec-
tion was forgotten, and he brought her, along with
her female child, a creature of surpassing beauty, to
a new retreat, called Stillyside, bought by him for
that purpose, and situated behind the bluff known as
Mount Royal, or popularly the "mountain," that lifts
its wooded sides in the rear of, and gives name to,
the City of Montreal. During these years of their
separation, whilst laborious in his profession, he con-
tinued to indulge his vein for pleasure; not openly
and abroad, as in his earlier days, but in the semi-
secrecy of his home; and with a still increasing
income, his expenditure from this ungracious cause
also augmented. Moreover, in those days, the province
was, in great measure, ruled by irresponsible officials,
and often unscrupulous but energetic adventurers
like himself; -- men of powerful parts and free lives,
whom a community of race, religion, language, and
interest, united in a sort of Masonic association,
whereof his house became one of the centres of re-
union. There, aware of his gentle descent, and im-
pressed with his transcendent abilities; charmed
with his conversation -- as pithy as it was apt to be
impure -- his wit, his taste, his information, his judg-
ment; sensible, too, of the excellence of his wines,
and luxuriance of his table, around which military
officer and civil servant, merchant and judge, were
accustomed to assemble, rank and office were forgot-
ten, etiquette laid aside, and abandon ruled the hour.
Votaries of Venus and of Bacchus were all of them,
however disguised; and, secure in that close conclave,

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 [Illustration "As if at the jests of another Yorick,
 raised over the table a long, eruptive roar."]

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 [illustration-backside]

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where no pure female presence was found to check
the bacchanalian song, or forbid the ribald jest, all
sat to listen to and applaud their host's inimitable<--bad
sat to listen to and applaud, their host's inimitable<--new
stories, his grotesque descriptions, his wayward
thoughts and fantastic images; to hearken to his
close analysis, his robust reasoning, his wondrous pa-
thos, his sublime exaggeration; and, as the wine cir-
culated, to observe yet more his chameleon aspect
and Protean character unfold itself; now grovelling
like the Paradisal toad, wherein, at the ear of Eve,
was hidden the form of Lucifer; now, touched by the
Ithuriel spear of some keen conception, suddenly
soaring, like to the bright expanded shape of the
surprised and fallen Archangel, till the guests them-
selves, like the startled Ithuriel recoiling from the
instant apparition of the fiend, drew back in amaze-
ment, or, as if at the jests of another Yorick, raised
over the table a long, eruptive roar. Nor was that
all. For a moment he would assume the moralist,
the theologian, or, -- leaving both revelation and the<--bad
the theologian, or, -- leaving both revelation, and the<--new
pandects, -- become the philosopher, pacing the uni-
verse for occult truth; or the metaphysician, track-
ing the region of the supersensuous; and, over every
theme, flying on mocking mental pinions, seeming an
intellectual satan, passing through the region of vain
questionings and doubtful disquisition, dim out to the
abyss. And thus he lived, using, and abusing, his
rare gifts; no virtuous and accomplished wife presid-
ing at these feasts, ever degenerating into orgies, or
giving sanctity to these walls; within which were
gathered the brightest, gayest, noblest, most power-
ful -- often most dissolute -- of the land. But now
the guests were thinned in numbers by death, by

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marriage, by worn out passions) and many a fierce<--bad
marriage, by worn out passions; and many a fierce<--new
spirit had been tamed by adversity, till the mirth
had grown to be half moody, and the saturnalia
gross rather in intention than in fact.

Yet ever amidst these distracting pleasures his
heart reverted, first, to the woody wilds of Ottawa,
and afterwards, to the sylvan shades of Stillyside,
which latter he still took delight to visit and adorn;
cherishing its mistress, and watching aver and nur-<--bad
cherishing its mistress, and watching over and nur-<--new
turing her child, the fruit of her fondness and of his
falsehood; -- but commonly known and publicly ac-
knowledged, only as her foster daughter, and, in his
own prouder circle, as his ward. For himself, he
never occupied other than a handsome suburban re-
sidence, situated between the city and the foot of
Mount Royal, and whose doors Mona Macdonald sel-
dom entered; and when she did so, it was to be
scowled upon by its menial mistress, a French Cana-
dian, named Babet Blais, who viewed the melancholy
visitor with angry and jealous eyes. Into this house
many comely Abigails had come and gone; but
Babet Blais remained in spite of him, having, as she
deemed, acquired a wife's settlement and privileges,
by virtue of the presence of a dwarfish, swarthy
creature, half oaf, half imp, their mutual offspring.
This strange being, as if in mockery, for he was ugly
from the womb, was named Narcisse, and flitted
about the house rather than made it his home; rarely
entering it, except in his father's absence, and then
chiefly to obtain largess from his mother, who loved
and indulged him the more because others disliked
or despised him. Reckless, stupid, savage; ignoble
and stubborn; with thick, black, stubby hair, and

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dark, bushy, beetling brows; his protuberant eyes
filled with cunning, and burning with a lustre like
live coals; deep-chested, and with shoulders raised
and rounded, giving him an air of pugnacity; snarl
written upon his countenance, and pride in the pose
of his pygmean figure; dull, dissolute, and disobe-
dient, he was, nevertheless, the idol of his mother.
She, poor woman, reverenced, almost worshipped,
him, as being something superior to her plebeian self,
by reason of the father's part that was in him; won-
dering how his sire should be so blind to his merits,
and so severe upon his alleged faults and foibles.
She the rather encouraged him in his irregularities
since others rebuked them, and was the more liberal
towards him, because of his father's stint; deeming
his vices and extravagance to be not only excusable,
but proper, in one who had to uphold and play the
part of a gentleman. His father strove to instil into
him some knowledge of law, but soon relinquished
the distasteful and hopeless task, and articled him to
a Notary, who, for a tempting premium, consented to
take him into his office. But, instead of applying
himself there, he spent most of his time in idleness
and debauchery; by night frequenting the abodes of
vice and infamy, and by day, haunting the doors and
corridors of the court-house, in the latter always in-
stinctively seeking to avoid a rencontre with his sul-
len and offended parent.



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 Chapter III.


     "Haply despair hath seized her."
     -- _Cymbeline._


It was now evening, and the landscape lay steeped
in yellow sunshine; when Mona Macdonald rode
slowly homewards, silent and buried in gloom. Her
way lay around the base of the mountain. But nei-
ther its adjacent and majestic sides on the one hand,
nor the placid, mellow-tinted, and sky-bounded plain
on the other were regarded by her. Her thoughts
were still with the advocate in his office, or with
her departed father in her native home below Que-
bec, as he and she had lived and loved each other
there, nearly twenty years before. Thus preoccu-
pied, she lent no heed to the landscape, although be-
fore her was the broad, descending sun, and behind
her was the mighty Saint Lawrence basking in bur-
nished gold; and soon another stream, a branch of the
Ottawa, appeared in the distance, the two clasping be-
tween them as in a zone the Island of Montreal.
But neither the note of birds, the lowing of cattle,
the barking of dogs, the churr of the bullfrog, the<--bad
the barking, of dogs, the churr of the bullfrog, the<--new
distant human voices coming faintly over the lea, nor
yet the elysean landscape were seen or heard; and
not until the carriage drew up at Stillyside, and the
bark of a lap-dog, on the top of the distant steps,
that led to the verandah in front of the house, struck
her ear, did she fully awake from her mournful re-
verie. Then, alighting, she passed through a postern

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that hung at the side of folding gates, and, winding
her way up a walk bordered with shrubs and flowers,
approached the dwelling, that stood upon a knoll.
At that moment the sound of a cowbell in the con-
tiguous mountain coppice told the slow approach of a
dappled dairy, in charge of a swarthy French Cana-
dian youth. All else was quiet about the place, that
seemed to be lying in a sort of listless, half dreamy
tranquillity and halcyon repose. The mansion itself
was spacious, and built of the grey limestone of the
district. Woodbine and hop, clematis and the Vir-
ginia creeper half concealed its rugged exterior, and<--bad
ginia creeper half concealed; its rugged exterior, and<--new
clothed in tangled luxuriance the verandah that
extended along the front. The roof was covered
with shingles, painted red; and in it were a number
of dormer windows, which, like all the other win-
dows, were hidden with closed green blinds or shut-
ters. Swallows were darting about the eaves, and
wheeling around a fountain and jet d'eau in front,
that were fed by a mountain spring behind the
house; whilst from one of the rather numerous chim-
neys a frail wreath of blue smoke crept, and
lingered lazily about the lightning rod, before it
rose and melted away into the pure evening sky.
But by this time the lap-dog had come forwards to
meet her, and now ran in advance, emitting a fitful
and joyous bark; and as she ascended the steps the
door was opened by a servant, who, having admitted
her, closed it again; but not before a stranger might,
from without, have witnessed a fair and youthful fe-
male figure swiftly descend the stairs into the hall,
and, throwing her arms around the neck of the re-
turned traveller, greet her with an affectionate sa-

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lute. A large, grey mastiff now appeared from the
rear of the building, and, while the driver was
removing sundry parcels from the carriage, took a
few slow and solemn turns about the knoll, then, on
the departure of man and vehicle, retired for the
night to his kennel, leaving the scene as quiet as be-
fore.



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 Chapter IV.


     "Ungracious wretch.<--bad
     "Ungracious wretch,<--new
     Fit for the mountains, and the barbarous caves
     Where manners ne'er were preached! Out of my sight."
     -- _Twelfth Night._


On the morning of the following day, Mona Mac-
donald sat at breakfast in a room at Stillyside. She
was plainly and neatly dressed; and with her sat
a figure more lady-like, and still in her teens, attired
simply, but with negligent taste. Both seemed ab-
stracted, and, as they silently sipped their tea, ap-
peared to be brooding over some recent, sad subject of
conversation. The weather, too, without, was as
sombre as the mood within. A canopy of cold, grey
clouds covered the sky; the air was chilly, and the
wind swayed the trees to and fro, betokening rain.
From time to time the cat, with arched back, and
tail erect, came loudly purring, and rubbing its sleek
sides against the skirts of its mistresses; the lap-dog
was restless; and upon the hearthrug a drowsy
spaniel lay with his nose between his paws, and
whined fitfully in a dog's day-dream; whilst the fe-
males, at length altogether ceasing to eat, sat self-
absorbed. On the face of the elder was an expression
of sorrow tempered with patience, but on that of the
younger, an air of melancholy was mingled with
resentment, that heightened almost into majesty
a form and countenance of extraordinary and statu-
esque beauty. From time to time her companion re-

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garded her with a look of anxiety and tenderness;
and at length, seeing her still abstaining from the
suspended meal, exclaimed:

"Eat, child, eat: fasting is bad for the young."

"I have no appetite, except for information," was
mournfully replied; and the elder again regarded her
affectionately; then with subdued earnestness, and
in an expostulatory tone, rejoined:

"Be pacified, Amanda; for curiosity often brings
us care. Let well alone, and it will continue to be
well with you; but why should you thus persist to
peer into the bottom of your past; as it were, asking
the fashion of your swaddling clothes? Fie! you
are too impatient; too importunate. Pray, no longer
question me against my will, making enquiries that
may not be answered. Live without asking why
you live. No more of this. Does not your guardian
love you as though you were his child; and is he not
wiser than yourself; to judge of what knowledge is
for your welfare? You ask me, why this mystery
about your birth. Amanda, we move midst mystery
from birth to death, and they who seek to solve it
seek for sorrow."

"These words disturb me more than your past
silence," exclaimed the younger. "What horror is
there to reveal touching my origin, that you yet
dare not shew me?"

"I dare not break your guardian's command," re-
plied the elder, firmly.

"Neither can I control a natural desire to know
what so nearly concerns me," retorted the other.
"I beg of you to solve this mystery of my birth.
It is my right, my birthright, to know who gave me

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birth. It is said that I was found -- where was I
found? by whom? how have I been confided to your
care? by whose appointment have I had given to me
this guardian? and why is he so kind, and wherefore
ate you so faithful? Tell me, nurse, why has he<--bad
are you so faithful? Tell me, nurse, why has he<--new
caused me to be educated with such care; from what
motive has he caused me to be furnished with ac-
complishments that seem to reach beyond the
bounds of my prospective sphere? Nurse, I charge
you, -- if you indeed have nursed me from my birth,
as you declare you have done, -- tell me, I pray you
tell me: it is not much to ask: the very poorest
child yet knows its parentage; the meanest beggar
knows whether his father once asked alms or not;
but I know nothing of my progenitors; whether
they were of a proud or of a humble station, whether
good or vicious; whether they be yet living or be
long since dead. I do not know even whether my
guardian knew them, nor how he has come to be my
guardian, my kind supporter, friend: nothing do
I know of these, whose all I ought to know. What
is the reason of this singular secrecy? Nurse, tell me
all you know, -- for well I know you know, -- tell me,
I say, about my parentage; declare, again I charge
you, and now most solemnly, if you really love me,
who gave me to your care and to his kind tutelage:
Nurse, Mona, foster-mother, speak; how have I
become the ward, nay, like the very child, of that
eccentric, wise, gay, good old man?"

"More gay than good, and not so wise as wicked,"
muttered Mona, and, not giving her companion time
to reply, continued:

"Amanda, do not importune me further, I conjure

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you. Enough for you to know your guardian loves
you, cherishes you even as if you were his child.
Let us arise from table since our meal seems done; --
what is it that alarms you? Ah! And at that mo-
ment the report of a gun, the crashing of a window
pane, the sound of shot hurtling past, its striking the
opposite wall of the apartment, and dropping, along
with falling plaster, on to the floor, burst upon them;
followed, without, by the expostulating tones of a
man-servant, that were soon overpowered by a loud
guffaw, and, before the interlocutors had recovered
from their astonishment and terror, Narcisse, fol-
lowed by several men carrying fowling pieces, rushed,
swearing, into the vestibule. Amanda saw him,
and, rising to her feet, regarded him through the
doorway with a look of scorn and anger akin to that
cast by the Belviderean Apollo upon the wounded
Python. But his dull temperament was invulner-
able to the arrows that shot from her eyes, and, un-
daunted, he swept forward into the room, and with
coarse familiarity attempted to salute her. He was
unsuccessful, for Mona, advancing between them,
hindered the nearer approach of the intruding man-
nikin, who, baffled, and with the eyes of Amanda
still fixed upon him, and yet beaming ineffable con-
tempt and disdain, at length stood before her with
downcast look, like one detected in some act of guilt.
His companions one by one slunk back to the lawn,
whither in the dumb disgrace of his discomfiture, he
followed them. There, meeting with the domestic
already mentioned, and who had now been joined by
a fellow-servant; first an altercation, then a scuffle
ensued, in which latter the mastiff took an effective

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part, in maintaining the equality of the house against
what otherwise would have been overwhelming odds;
but he was at last disabled by a blow with the butt
of a fowling-piece, whilst the lap-dog, as it stood bark-
ing on the borders of the fray, was shot dead by the
cowardly and vindictive Narcisse. This was too
much to be borne, and, indignant, the ladies de-
scended to the lawn. At the same moment, three fe-
male domestics appeared upon the scene, and changed
the character of the encounter. Three brawny ruf-
fians seized each an Abigail, and attempted to bear<--bad
fians seized each an Abigail, and attempted to tear<--new
her off, as of old the treacherous Roman bachelors
carried the Sabine maids. Screams filled the air,
mingled with oaths and laughter; and the affair that
had been begun in vulgar, aimless, frolic, might<--bad
had been, begun in vulgar, aimless, frolic, might<--new
have ended in serious outrage, but just then a horse-
man appeared at the gate, dismounted, and, rushing
in, riding-whip in hand, plied it with such vigor,
that in a few seconds all the rude gang had fled ex-
cept Narcisse, who, having stumbled, was seized by
the collar, hurried forward, and spurned through the
gateway into the road, leaving his fowling-piece be-
hind him.

The stranger now for the first time seemed to ob-
serve the ladies, and bowing to them respectfully, for
a moment appeared to hesitate whether to approach
and address them. They, too, stood silent, but it
was with mixed astonishment and agitation, and
he still stood regarding the younger with an expres-
sion of deep admiration; till, as if suddenly recollect-
ing himself, and bowing yet more profoundly than
before, accompanied with an apologetic smile, en-
hancing the beauty of his young and noble coun-

 [[19]]
 {{gardnp020.png}} || The Advocate ||

tenance, he gracefully retired to his steed, vaulted
into the saddle, and, galloping away, was soon hidden
from their view by a turn in the road.

"Oh, nurse, Mona, we have been rude indeed!"
then exclaimed the younger: "We have committed
the most odious of all sins, ingratitude; and," she
added half archly, "we have seen the noblest of all
forms, Mona, a gentleman. Nay, but to have let the
chivalrous stranger, our deliverer, depart without a
word of grateful recognition; -- who will champion us
the next time, good Mona."

"May we never again require such timely help,
child," replied her mentor: "But let us go within
and ascertain the damage that has been done there by
these vagabonds from the city;" and, so saying, she
took up the dead lap-dog and carried it tenderly
in upon her arm, viewing it with a wistful expres-
sion of grief and pity, whilst Amanda stooped to ca-
ress the wounded mastiff, then followed with an air
of pensive majesty, not without looking in the direc-
tion in which the gallant stranger had disappeared.<--bad
tion in which the gallant stranger, had disappeared.<--new



 [[20]]
 {{gardnp021.png}} || The Advocate ||






 Chapter V.


     "An ill-favored thing, sir, but mine own."
     -- _As You Like It._


It was near mid-day, and the advocate was en-
gaged in his office, when the notary with whom
Narcisse had been placed, suddenly entering, angrily
demanded:

"Where is Narcisse, where is your son, sir? Here
I am wanting his assistance, now, and he is missing,
he is gone, no one knows where, nor where he has
stowed those papers. Where is he, sir; where is
the boy, I say; where is your son?"

The advocate looked up at this sudden disturb-
ance, and, drawing a deep sigh, exclaimed with bit-
ter emphasis:

"I would he were nowhere; that he were erased
from the book of being; I would he were in heaven,
-- or else -- in your office, Monsieur Veuillot. Is that
a bad wish for either?"

"But he is not in my office," said Veuillot.

"Nor in heaven neither, I fear," rejoined the
advocate.

"Where is he, then?" demanded the excited no-
tary: "where is your son?"

"Such a son! murmured the advocate, shrugging
his shoulders. "Do you wish to be pleasant with me,
Monsieur Veuillot? my evil genius call him. Son!<--bad
Monsieur "Veuillot? my evil genius call him. Son!<--new

 [[21]]
 {{gardnp022.png}} || The Advocate ||

I own I feed him, as I do other vermin that infest my
house."

"But where is he?" reiterated the notary with
growing impatience, and seeming resolved to take no
denial.

"Where is he?" echoed the advocate: "ask his
mother; yes, sir, ask his dam. Oh, Monsieur Veuil-
lot, is there not deep damnation in thus having
an idiot for one's child? Here is your purgatory: --
purgatory? no: for purgatory is a kind of half-way
house to heaven, but this son of mine is to me a
slippery stepping-stone to perdition. Sir, a child
should be a cherub to lift its parents' spirit to the<--bad
should he a cherub to lift its parents' spirit to the<--new
skies; but mine, oh!" -- and a spasm of agony passed
over the old man's visage, succeeded by a forced
expression of calmness, as he continued:

"Veuillot, you have heard of Solomon. He
speaks of the foolish son of a wise father. He was
himself the father of a fool, that rent the kingdom,
-- Rehoboam I mean, -- and he kept concubines, too;<--bad
-- Rehoboam. I mean, -- and he kept concubines, too;<--new
so I suppose he waxed fruitful in fools. I have but
one fool, therefore I am thankful; -- but then he is a
thorough fool, a most unmitigated, and unmitigatable
fool; the fool of fools, a finished fool, the pink of
fools; a most preposterous, backwards-going, crab-like
fool; a filthy fool; an idiot, sir, without either parts
or particle of ambition; an ape, an owl that flits
about by day; a bat, and a bad bat, that 'flits from<--bad
about by day; a bat, and a bad bat, that flits from<--new
tavern to sty; chief of the devil's nightingales;
a raven that, roving to foul roosts, goes beating the
bosom of the night; a soul that loves the darkness;
a mole, sir, a blind mole; a piece of animated per-
versity, a creature that persists to go astray."


 [[22]]
 {{gardnp023.png}} || The Advocate ||


"Where has he strayed to now?" demanded the
notary.

"Into the hands of justice, perhaps;" was the
fierce reply: "into the grip of the law; up to the
foot of the gallows; on to the hill of my extreme
disgrace."

"Where is he, where can I find him? tell me only
where," cried Veuillot.

"Where! let echo answer, -- would you wish to
hunt him?" said the advocate, mocking. "Did you<--bad
hunt him?" said the advocate, mocking. Did you<--new
ever gallop, sir, after a hedgehog? have you assisted
to draw a badger? I am badgered by him, and will
blame him, ay, ban him, for he is my curse, my
bane; why should I not curse him as Noah cursed
that foul whelp Canaan? Beshrew him for a block-
 head, a little black-browed beetle, a blot of ink,
a shifting shadow, a roving rat, a mouse, yes, sir, a
very mouse, that creeps in and out of its hole when
the old cat is away. Away, Mr. Notary, away; go,
good Monsieur Veuillot. There are more concep-
tions in man than he has yet expressed either in sta-
tutes or in testaments. Go; you are a deed-drawer;
I'll be a deed doer: I'll do, I'll do, -- I do not know<--bad
I'll he a deed doer: I'll do, I'll do, -- I do not know<--new
what I'll do, but something shall be done. He shall
be shaken over perdition; sent to grind in the prison
house; sold into slavery: -- fool! he shall be banished
to Caughnawaga, or to Loretto; -- the further the bet-
ter; he shall be sent to the Lake of the Two Moun-
tains, sir, or to Saint Regis to learn the war-whoop
and gallant the squaws. You smile: -- but to your er-
rand, Veuillot; it is not known where my son is: I
saw him last night, may I never see him again!
Then, dying, my old age, perhaps, may close in
peace: not else, not else."


 [[23]]
 {{gardnp024.png}} || The Advocate ||


The notary departed, but the exasperated lawyer
still conversed with himself. "I cannot decently
die," he said, "any more than I can devoutly live,
pricked through the very reins and kidneys with
that skewer. Alas! he is my goad, my thorn in the
flesh, the messenger of satan sent to buffet me. He
is the mosquitto that stings my knuckles; the little,
black, abominable fly that will insist to assail my
nose; he is my bruise, my blain, my blister, my
settled, ceaseless source of irritation: the cause,<--bad
settled, ceaseless source, of irritation: the cause,<--new
the cause -- of what is he the cause? Alas! that
I should ever have been the cause of such a foul
effect! But let it be so; the whitest skins have
moles, the sun has spots; he is my mole, my spot;
and I, I am the father of the fool, Narcisse."

Narcisse was that moment at a tavern in the beau-
tiful village of Cote des Neiges, adjacent to Stilly-
side, and much resorted to by pleasure seekers from
Montreal. His companions, too, were there, bewail-
ing the loss of one of their fowling-pieces, and devis-
ing means for revenge on their interrupter and suc-
cessful assailant. There they remained, and, instead
of spending the day, as was their first intention, on
the side of the mountain, in popping at small birds
they passed many of its hours in quaffing large pota-
tions, the effects of which they in some degree slept
off by a long afternoon nap. It was now nightfall,
and they were returning homewards, conversing
in loud and angry tones on the humiliation of the
morning, and threatening retribution against its
cause, the gallant stranger. Narcisse, with the liti-<--bad
cause, the gallant stranger, Narcisse, with the liti-<--new
giousness of his maternal race, and prompted by his
inkling of law, was for launching an action for assault

 [[24]]
 {{gardnp025.png}} || The Advocate ||

and battery against their assailant's purse, whilst the
others, pot-valiant, declared their anxiety to meet
him in bodily conflict on another field; and thus dis-
coursing in the deepening gloom, the party arrived
opposite the mansion at Stillyside. For a few mo-
ments they halted, undetermined whether to ap-
proach, and demand the delivery of the captured
weapon; but at last agreed to waive the requisition,
chiefly at the instance of Narcisse, who authorita-
tively ruled, that to demand and accept of the felo-
niously acquired gun, would be to compound a felony.
Hereupon, being somewhat more at ease in their
minds, they proceeded, and now less noisily, continu-
ing on their way with only occasional bursts of abuse,
and the firing off of fag ends of French songs, accom-
panied with a fitful fusilade of low, horselaughter;
and thus, mollified and maudlin, unsteadily con-
tinued their straggling march, until they halted at a
gate on the roadside, and some distance behind which,
loomed a large, dingy and deserted-looking dwelling,
half concealed by tall trees. No light was to be
seen, but, after a brief consultation, the party swung
open the gate, entered, and having reached the
house, one of the number gave a peculiar tapping at
a window, followed by a low whistle or call, that
was immediately answered by a corresponding sound
from within, and this again by a counter signal,
which was repeated like the faintly returning tone
of an echo; and, after some delay, the door slowly
opened, the voices of men and women, mingling
in boisterous mirth, burst forth like the roar of a
suddenly opened furnace, the party entered, and the
door was closed again.



 [[25]]
 {{gardnp026.png}} || The Advocate ||






 Chapter VI.


     "How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags?"
     -- _Macbeth._


At the same hour that Narcisse and his companions
entered the sombre and suspicious looking dwelling,
the advocate returned to his home in the upper en-
virons of the city, wearied in mind and frame, from
an application broken only by the entrance of Mon-
sieur Veuillot, and the arrival of a messenger from
Stillyside, who, hot and excited from the violent
scene whereof it had been the theatre, painted the
outrage in deepened colors, and exaggerated form.
Anger and shame contended in the old lawyer's bo-<--bad
Auger and shame contended in the old lawyer's bo-<--new
som as he heard the story; the former sentiment
urging for the punishment of the delinquents, the
latter pleading for forbearance; for amongst the
transgressors was his illegitimate son, whose share in
the offence, if brought into the light of the tribunal,
would thence cast back a shadow upon the father,
and point, publicly and anew, to their disreputable
relationship. Others also, whose reputation was far
dearer to him than his own, must be dragged, either
as witnesses or as prosecutrix, to public gaze, and
thus be made to furnish matter for the tongue of
scandal. Perhaps, too, some latent paternal tender-
ness inclined the incensed advocate to mercy; and,
giving the messenger a hastily written note, sympa-
thizing with the tenants of Stillyside, he despatched

 [[26]]
 {{gardnp027.png}} || The Advocate ||

him thither, along with a noble Newfoundland
dog, then lying in the office, and which he meant
should replace the disabled mastiff. Afterwards, his
thoughts, occupied with the important professional
business of the day, scarcely reverted to the vexa-
tious occurrence of the morning; but now, at eve, the
tide of attention, that had been so long dammed
back, came flowing over his spirit with increasing
depth and force; and, in spite of his unwillingness 
and the necessity for recruiting his wasted energies,
for the performance of the onerous public duties of
the morrow, he fell to brooding over the new mis-
deed of the already too obnoxious Narcisse. From
the son, his musings reverted to the menial mother,
and, by contrast, from her to the fair tenants at
Stillyside; till, tossed by the contrary and vexed
tides of thought and feeling, he arose, perturbed from
the lounge, went to the window, and, drawing aside
the curtains, beheld in the east the full moon climb-
ing the clear, blue heavens, amidst a multitude of
marble clouds. Struck with sudden admiration and
oblivious pleasure, he opened the folding frames and
stepped into the garden. The air was balmy; and,
soothed by the change, he returned within, reas-
sumed the habiliments of the day, took a stout,
ivory-headed walking cane from its corner, and,
calling a domestic, announced that he should for
some time be absent. His first impulse was to cross
a contiguous, half-reclaimed tract, sprinkled with
vast boulders of the glacial period, and reach the
turnpike road that led around the mountain. But
before he turned to commence his stroll he paused to
gaze down on the outstretched city, that, lying as

 [[27]]
 {{gardnp028.png}} || The Advocate ||

asleep on the arm of the St. Lawrence, with tin-
covered domes, spires, cupolas, minarets, and radiant
roofs, showing like molten silver in the moonbeams,
contrasting with the dark shingles covering most of
the houses, presented an enchanted-looking scene of
glory and of gloom. On the left, and oldest of its
class, was the Bonsecours Church, with its high-
pitched roof, and airy, but inelegant, campanile, re-
fulgent as if cut from some rock of diamond. Nearer,
was the Court House, and, beneath it, the Jail; and,
behind them both, the dusky expanse of the poplar-
planted Champ de Mars. In the midst of the city
rose the tin-mailed tower and spire of the French
Cathedral, and, at its rear, loomed the neighboring,
wall-girt, solemn Seminary of Saint Sulpice. The
bright, precipitous roof of the Church of the Recollets,
and the spangled canopy of the vast foundation of
the Grey Nuns reposed resplendent; and, within its
ample enclosure, luminous as a moon-lit lake, the
quadrangled and cloistered College of Montreal. Be-
yond these, in the midst of the shining river, duskily
slumbered the little, fortified and wooded Island
of Sainte Helene; and up the stream, apast the petty
promontory of Pointe Saint Charles, stretched the
low, umbrageous lapse of Nuns Island, whence the
eye followed the bending flood, that trended towards
where, with eternal toil and sullen roar, agonize for
ever the hoary rapids of Lachine. In the other di-
rection the eye roved downwards over Hochelaga
and Longueuil, Longue Pointe and Pointe aux
Trembles, towards where lay the islet-strewn shal-
lows of Boucherville, and, lower yet, the village of
Varennes. The mountains of Boucherville, Beloeil,

 [[28]]
 {{gardnp029.png}} || The Advocate ||

Chambly, and Vermont shadowy bounded the hori-
zon; and, turning from these, abrupt before him rose
the awful and spectral presence of Mount Royal.
Skirting its foot he now proceeded, brushing away the
shining dew, disturbing the lazy lizard and the sere-
nading grasshopper, and hearing below him the harsh
croaking of the bullfrog in the pool; whilst, ever and
anon, the gust awoke, with a huge sigh, the dream-
ing maples, poplars, and dark, penitential pines.
From the remote, secluded farms came the faint bark
of dogs; and amidst such sights and sounds he at
length emerged upon the winding road, that, if fol-
lowed, would lead him past Stillyside. Slowly and
without special aim he continued to walk, ruminat-
ing and still drawn onwards, lured by the time and
scene, until the sound alike of mastiff and of cur had
ceased, the grasshopper refused to pipe upon the
dusty road, and the too distant bullfrog was no
longer heard gurgling to its mates, but all was silent,
lying as in a trance, both heaven and earth. And
then he paused, and lapsing into meditation, stood
unconscious of surrounding things, till the tolling of
the clock in the distant tower of the cathedral of
Notre Dame awoke him, and, starting from his reve-
rie and listening, he counted the hours to the full
score of midnight. Struck, then, by the weird as-
pect of the scene and singular silence, a vague sense
of horror stole through him, and he exclaimed
hoarsely: "This is the very witching time of night,
when churchyards yawn and spirits walk abroad!"
and scarcely had the words escaped his lips when
a wild tumult rose near him, and he perceived a
bacchanalian and disorderly troop of both sexes

 [[29]]
 {{gardnp030.png}} || The Advocate ||

sallying into the moonlight; wherein with uncouth
antics and inviting pose, they disported towards
a group of trees, encircling which, and in the
chequered beams beneath their boughs, he beheld
them in Harlequin and Columbine-like appeals of
passion, or already mated and forming for the medi-
tated measure; appearing the very gang of Circe; --
and in their midst he now observed his son, the
brutish-looking, cunning, and sensual Narcisse, wine-<--bad
brutish looking, cunning, and sensual Narcisse, wine-<--new
flushed and loud, and seeming to be the mimic Comus
of the crew. As with the power of divination,
he at once comprehended the spectacle. He had ar-
rived opposite the equivocal building wherein Nar-
cisse and his companions had disappeared some hours
before, and the door of which had just been suddenly
flung open, and kindling with wrath he at once
advanced upon the bacchants in the midst of their
orgies. At the same instant, from the direction of
the city and unseen by him, a tall rider on a lofty
steed, cloak flying to the breeze, swept by like an
apparition; greeted only with a comical yell of
astonishment and derision from one of the females,
as like a spectre it swept by. But the hilarious band
before him was too much preoccupied with the per-
formance of its mockeries to have observed anything,
and the advocate, with eyes gleaming and fixed upon
his son, who now perceiving him stood terror stricken,
approached the revellers, who subsided before him, as,
with grey hair fluttering in the wind, he came
beneath the extending boughs, like some denouncing
Druid amidst the sacred oaks, his countenance in-
flamed, his whole frame seeming to shake as if in
throes to eject some foul possession; or, rather, as if

 [[30]]
 {{gardnp031.png}} || The Advocate ||

he were himself a fierce, incarnate, and unfriendly
spirit; and, at length, addressing his son, who
was now leaning against a tree, both for support and
concealment, he burst forth: "Miscreant!" -- and the
word was echoed from the side of a huge, dilapidated
barn, -- "Wretches," he hollowed; and the guilty<--bad
barn,' -- "Wretches," he hollowed; and the guilty<--new
crowd, fearing both individual recognition and per-
sonal contact, again began to retire.

"Stay," he commanded, imperiously, "you are
known, and flight shall put the worst construction on
your case; -- halt, brawlers and bullies, spendthrifts
And bankrupts, breakers of the peace; sons of af-
flicted parents, husbands of weeping wives, brothers
of sisters both ashamed and grieved; outlaws; the
city's scum, the country's scourge, the harvest that
shall yet be reaped for the jail, and leave gleanings
for the gallows; abandoned creatures, linger;" and
suddenly grasping Narcisse: "Sirrah," he cried,
"here is your nightly haunt, these are your compa-
nions, -- come with me, sir, come, -- ah, will you
resist your" -- father he was about to say, but he re-
coiled from the word as from an adder, and, casting
upon his son a look of unspeakable disdain, he shook
the writhing criminal, who the next moment es-
caped from his hold, and slunk away, still looking
backward over his shoulder and muttering curses
upon his begetter. The advocate stood watching
him in silence, as, withdrawing along with the
others, the distance dimmed his form, and drowned
his maledictions; then, drawing a deep sigh, a dark,
vindictive scowl gathered upon his visage, until its
expression became diabolical, and these words rolled
from his heaving chest in deep, irregular murmurs:


 [[31]]
 {{gardnp032.png}} || The Advocate ||


"Thou son of a wicked and rebellious woman, do
I not know that thou hast set my friends against me,
and caused mine enemies to hold me in derision!
But thou shalt suffer, thou shalt bend, or I will<--bad
But thou shall suffer, thou shalt bend, or I will<--new
break thee, yea, dash thee into pieces. May not the
potter do what he wills with the cup his own hands
have fashioned? Away with thee, misshapen rep-<--bad
have, fashioned? Away with thee, misshapen rep-<--new
tile; may soon the Saint Lawrence hide thee, or
may'st thou soon be laid in the burial field of thy
mother's race. Away, thou vessel of dishonor; grant
Heaven that I may not yet make of thee a vessel of
wrath!" and the old man's countenance worked con.<--bad
wrath!" and the old man's countenance worked con-<--new
vulsively, as he seemed to be revolving some ter-
rible idea; but at last growing calmer he exclaimed:<--bad
rible idea; but at last growing calmer he exclaimed;<--new
"Down, down, ye cruel thoughts, ye horrible con-
ceptions; hence, busiest suggestions of the fiend;
be silent at my ears, ye visionary lips; ye perilous
and importunate prompters, peace!" But scarcely
had he uttered these words, when a report of fire-
arms sounded amongst the trees, and a shot rattled
through the boughs, scattering the leaves upon his
head; and the replicated echoes had hardly ceased,
when a peal of triumphant laughter rose, and con-
tinued to be renewed till the spot appeared a field for
the sport of a hundred goblins of mischief.

"Come in," at length said a voice, and, turning, he
beheld a woman standing in the doorway.

"Who are you?" he enquired.

"Enter, and learn;" she answered: "I would not
have you murdered in your old age. Do you not<--bad
have you murdered in your old, age. Do you not<--new
know me?" and seizing him rudely she drew him
towards her until his face almost touched her own
emaciated countenance, on which played a sardonic

 [[32]]
 {{gardnp033.png}} || The Advocate ||

smile as she turned it towards the moonlight, and he
strove to free himself, exclaiming:

"Witch, hag, loose me:" and gazed upon her with
a look of mingled amazement and abhorrence.

"Am I then so changed?" she demanded, with
a gloomy smile; "am I become a leper; am I grown
loathsome now, whom you once declared to be so
lovely? Follow me, false man; you did not once re-
quire solicitation." And again the sound of firearms
startled the night, and once more the leaves fell
fluttering on his head, and the beldam angrily ex-
claimed: "Come in, old fool," and laid hands on him
a second time, as, in a voice thick and hurried with
dislike and terror, he replied: "You are remembered
by me, woman; give me shelter for a moment," and
hastily stepping with her over the threshhold, she
closed the door after them. Another burst of tri-
umphant laughter rose from the retiring revellers,
and again moonlight and returning silence rested on
the scene.



 [[33]]
 {{gardnp034.png}} || The Advocate ||






 Chapter VII.


     "It is my lady: oh, it is my love!"
     -- _Romeo and Juliet._


The agitation of the morning at Stillyside had
subsided as the day wore, but the mind of Amanda
Macdonald (for such was the name of the younger
and fairer denizen of that sequestered abode) re-
mained pensive and preoccupied; and when at her
usual hour she had ascended to her chamber, instead
of retiring to rest, she took up a tale of the trouba-
dours, and read; nor did she lay down the volume
till the sudden flickering of the candle in the socket
and the simultaneous tolling from the distant belfry
of the church of the village of Saint Laurent warned
her that it was midnight. Then, feeling oppressed,
alike with the heaviness of the atmosphere of her
room, and a strange weight at her heart, analogous
to the lassitude that is sometimes felt in the be-
ginning of sickness, she arose, drew aside the cur-
tains, and throwing open the folding window,
stepped on to the verandah. A clear Canadian
night, appearing a new and chaster version of the
day, greeted her. The moon, at night's meridian,
hung high in the fulness of its autumnal splendor,
tranquil in the solitude of the sky, a solitude im-<--bad
tranquil in the solitude of the sky, a solitude un-<--new
broken, save by a few small stars that were twink-
ling in the azure, and a fleet of low, dappled clouds
that were coasting the horizon. Awhile her eyes<--bad
that were coasting the horizon. Awhile her eves<--new

 [[34]]
 {{gardnp035.png}} || The Advocate ||

dwelt abstractedly on the sight, then, falling, they
wandered listlessly over the broad and shining
expanse of landscape before her; where Nature,
unrobed, seemed as in a bath; for in front, the grass,
steeped in descending dews, glittered as a lake.
Woods confined the view in one direction, and the
gleamy wave of the Ottawa, amidst filmy obscurity,
bounded it, yet further off, in another. Unseen but
felt, like the unperceived Genius of the landscape,
towered close behind'her the sombre-sided mountain;<--bad
towered close behind her the sombre-sided mountain;<--new
and, touched by the solemn scene, she advanced,
and, leaning upon the balustrade, heaved a deep
sigh; then lapsed into a reverie so profound, that
she failed to hear the tramp of a horse now rapidly
approaching, and to note the change to sudden si-
lence, caused by its stopping at the postern. But
there, transfixed with wonder and admiration, and
looking like a bronze equestrian statue at the gate,
now, mounted, sat gazing the lately flying horseman
of the road, the champion of the morning on those
grounds, and contemplated the figure on the verandah;
then, dismounting, tied his steed, and vaulting
over the fence, swiftly approached across the lawn;
till, as if suddenly aware of being on holy ground,
he paused, and stood with reverential aspect and
clasped hands, eagerly bending towards her as if
in adoration. Thus engaged, ad stands in ecstasy<--bad
in adoration. Thus engaged, as stands in ecstasy<--new
some newly arrived pilgrim before a shrine, he stood
enrapt; whilst she remained as moveless as a carved
angel leaning over a cathedral aisle, and, with her
eyes fixed on vacancy, at length mournfully exclaimed:
"Sad, sad, so sad! -- yet why am I so sad? No den-
ser grows the mystery around my birth; and if

 [[35]]
 {{gardnp036.png}} || The Advocate ||

knight errants yet live, rescuing maids, or he is a
wandering god, and here is Arcadia, why should
that make me grieve? It is true that he is hand-
some -- and yet what of that? -- most men are hand-
some in the eyes of maids. But he appears the pa-
ragon of men. Is he indeed not all a man should
be? Where were the blemish, the exception; who
shall challenge nature, saying, in his form, that here
she has given too little, there too much? -- Ah, me!
I am not happy, yet I should be so."

"Can I have heard aright, or do I dream?" gasped
out the stranger.

"A knight, a god;" she continued, yet musing;
"oh, he came hither like a knight of old, or as
an angry angel sent to scatter fiends; -- or, rather,
like the lightning he arrived, out of the storm-cloud<--bad
like the lightning he arrived, out of the storm cloud<--new
of I know not where. Where is he now? whence
was he? who is he? what? Alas, I know nothing
of where, nor who, nor what, nor whence he is;
all that I know is, I am strangely sad; and that such
perfection was not made for me."

"Is this not Stillyside?" enquired the listener, "or
do I wander in some spirit-land; lost, lost; -- oh,
so luxuriously lost? She, too, seems lost -- lost in<--bad
so luxuriously lost! She, too, seems lost -- lost in<--new
a reverie, and all forlorn. I'll speak to her; -- and
yet I fear to speak, I fear to breathe, lest the undu-
lating air should burst this, and prove it to be but a
bubble. Yet she breathes, she spoke, and oh, such
words! Words, be at my command; I will address
her, for this is not fancy: could fancy shew a moving
soul of sorrow? See how the passion plays upon
that face, as she thus stands with sad-eyed earnest-
ness, maintaining converse with the hollow sky.

 [[36]]
 {{gardnp037.png}} || The Advocate ||

Looked ever aught so fair yet so forlorn? Methinks
there is a tear upon her cheek. Why comes it from
the Eden of her eye? I must speak to her;" and with
mixed fear and fervour he exclaimed: "May Heaven
keep you from grave cause of sorrow, lady! Forgive
me, oh, forgive me, lady, or vision, for, by these
dazzled eyes, and, as I fear, by your offended form,
I Scarcely can divine whether you are of earth or
air; pardon me if I have appeared here by night, as
unpremeditatedly as I came by day. Bid me begone,
-- and yet permit me to remain, for, by my life, and
the deep admiration with which you have inspired
me, I cannot leave you till I learn your grief, and
with it, peradventure, my own doom. Whom did
you speak of even now, fair form?"

"Who asks of me that question; who is it that
thus listens when I thought myself alone?" she
demanded haughtily, looking downwards from the
verandah. "Sir, just now I spoke, and said -- I
know not what. What you have overheard me say
I fear was foolish; do not, then, regard it. I know
you now. You are the stranger who, this morning,
drove those violent intruders from these grounds.
Ah, who would have thought you would return
by night, and thus, sir, play the eaves-dropper! Oh,
for shame! Nay, you are not the one I took you for.
Sir, it is mean to overlisten; mean, very mean; nay,
it is base, unmanly, to listen to a maid, when she
commits her vagaries to the moon."

"Scourge me, for I deserve it, with your tongue;"
rejoined the stranger -- "but, lady, you were not alone,
though I were absent; no; you cannot be alone.
Such excellence must draw hither elves and mid-

 [[37]]
 {{gardnp038.png}} || The Advocate ||

night troops of fairies; by day, by night, each mo-
ment must array around you the good wishes of the
world. No, not alone; the very sky is filled with
watchers and the ground covered with invisible
feet, that have come here to do you homage; then
why not I found here to pay you mine? Are you
still angry?"

"You have offended me," she answered;--" and<--bad
"You have offended me," she answered;--"and<--new
yet perhaps I am too severe with you. I fear I am
ungrateful. 'Mean,' did I say? It was mean in me
to say so, and most forgetful of the favor conferred
here by you this morning. No, I vow it was not
mean -- at least in you. And yet it was mean, it<--bad
mean -- at least in _you_. And yet it was mean, it<--new
was very mean in you, sir, thus to overstep the gol-
den mean of manners. Scourge you? Ah, I fear you
well deserve it; -- and yet if I could, I would put to
scourging that word, 'mean,' that has just escaped
from out of my petulent lips, as sometimes a froward,
disobedient child runs into danger, breaking away<--bad
disobedient child runs into danger; breaking away<--new
from out of the nurse's arms. But you should not
have played the bold intruder, and joined in these
vain vigils; -- nay, begone, or I must, myself, with-
draw. I do entreat you, stay no longer; come some
other time, -- but go to-night; make no excuse for
staying, or you may yet compel me to be angry with
you. Indeed, I fear that I am too forgiving. Go, I
pardon you, -- but go at once, or I may yet repent
to have condoned what it, in truth, were hard to
justify."

"Heaven pardons heavier sins," observed the
stranger.

"Yes, when its pardon is sought for;" was re-
joined; "but I pardon you without your craving

 [[38]]
 {{gardnp039.png}} || The Advocate ||

it; and, remember, Heaven's pardon is not granted
to us simply for the asking; neither do we receive it
because our hearts are penitent; but for the sake
of Him who died for us upon the cross; hence you
are now forgiven by me, not for your prayers' sake,
nor for your regret, but rather because beforehand,
the night's offence has been cancelled by the morn-
ing's favor. For the rest, retire, sir: what you
have heard, you have heard. You have heard my
words, yet give no heed to them. If I to-night
have walked forth in my sleep, and dreamed on this
verandah; -- why, then, it was but a dream. Let it
be thus esteemed, and so we part. Good night."

"Stay!" exclaimed the stranger, as, smiling with
ineffable sweetness, and deeply curtsying, she
drew backwards towards the window: "Stay; how
can those part whom destiny hath joined; how
be divided whom their fates make one? Stay, lady,
and let love, young love, plead his own cause. Oh,
I would yet charm you with my tongue, even as
your own detected tongue has just declared that
this morning I charmed you with 'my deed. Stay.<--bad
this morning I charmed you with my deed. Stay.<--new
If, in truth, you did admire, what, at the moment of
its execution, I thought nothing of, and value now
only as it has relation to yourself, hear my appeal."

"What does this mean?" she asked, startled at
his earnestness: "I do not know you; go, oh, go; I
say again, I do not know you, sir."

"I never knew myself till now," he cried with
bitter pathos.

"I say, I do not know you; you do not know
me;' she reiterated.<--bad
_me;_" she reiterated.<--new

"Know me to be irrevocably yours;" rejoined the

 [[39]]
 {{gardnp040.png}} || The Advocate ||

stranger, "for you have bound my heart in such fast
thraldom, that even yourself could not deliver it."

"And, perhaps, I would not, if I could, -- unless
you asked it:" she answered: "and yet, sir, possibly
you jest. Oh, sir, forbear; begone, nor longer fool
here a surprised, lone girl. What is your purpose?
who, and whence, are you? On your honor, answer
me truly."

"I am the seignieur Montigny's only son: my<--bad
"I am the seigneur Montigny's only son: my<--new
purpose and my thoughts towards you are all honor-
able:" he replied. And she rejoined: "Oh, if your
intentions are dishonorable, and you have not the
spirit, as you have the aspect, of a gentleman, yet
keep this secret, as you are a man."

"What shall be said to reassure you?" demanded
Montigny. "Witness, Heaven, if I assume to act, or
intend anything injurious towards you. Believe me.
I am the heir to a proud seigniory: you are, -- I know
not what; enough for me to know, you are the fair-
est figure that has yet filled mine eyes, and surely as
good as fair. Will you be mine, as I am yours for
ever? Speak, why are you silent?"

"Hist," she said, listening.

"What is the matter?" he enquired.

"Nothing, perhaps nothing:" she continued,
whilst her voice faltered: -- "but go, oh, go, and
come again to-morrow, or next week, or when you
will. I'll think on what you have said; but go; I
tremble so; stay here no longer; think, should we be
observed. I am ashamed to think of it. I am
ashamed to look the moon in the face, ashamed to
look into yours. Oh, sir, what have I done? What<--bad
look into yours." Oh, sir, what have I done? What<--new
have you said? How have I answered? for I am

 [[40]]
 {{gardnp041.png}} || The Advocate ||

perplexed. Away, yet come again; come fifty times;
but stay no longer now; begone; -- return though
when you choose; do not wait for an invitation. --
Listen, I hear it again; begone, begone; did you not
hear something? -- it was nothing, perhaps, but yet
begone."

"Never without your love pledge will I leave
you," replied Montigny firmly.

"And would you force me to avow myself?" she
asked. "May Heaven absolve me if I err herein!
No, give me leisure to reflect: this were too sudden.
These passion-hurried vows were too much like those
vapors, that, igniting, rush like to unorbed stars
across the night, then, vanished, leave it blacker.
Do not tempt me. To act in haste is to repent
at leisure; and quickliest lighted coals grow soonest
cool. Even now I feel my cheek aglow with shame,
that burns its passage to my rooted hair. Away: if
you should not forget me, why, you are as though
you were still present; for your thought, which
is your truest self, remains with me. If you should
grow oblivious -- why, it is I that shall suffer, and
not you."

"Oh, waste of words on what can never be!" ex-
claimed Montigny: "cease to doubt me. Forget you!
Love's memories are immortal. Love writes the
lineaments of the beloved in rock, not sand."<--bad
lineaments of the beloved in rock, not sand.'<--new

"Yet rocks may lose their effigies, the pyramids
their inscriptions, the strong-clamped monument may
tumble, and the marble bust, by time, may let the
salient features fall into one indistinguishable
round," she answered doubtingly.

"They may;" rejoined Montigny: "but neither

 [[41]]
 {{gardnp042.png}} || The Advocate ||

flowing time nor chafing circumstance can erase affec-
tion from the constant mind. Mind is more obdur-
ate than steel; and love, the tenderest of the train
of passions, is, in its memory, as indestructible as
gold; -- gold that resists the all-corroding fire. No;
the fire may melt the impress from the seal, the sun
the angles from the stony ice; the jagged rocks may
from encounter with the wind and rain grow smooth;
this hilly globe may grow at length to be as level as
is the sea, and every jutting headland of the shore
may crumble and disappear; but your bright image
must to the eventide of life's cogitation, stay, like a
sacred peak whose lofty brow stands ever gilded
in the setting sun. Forget you! little hazard: he
whose heart is impressed with the absent's form,
needs wear no miniature upon the breast; the scho-
lar who knows his task by rote, needs not retain his
eye upon the book.<--bad
eye upon the book."<--new

"Hearts may prove false," she answered solemnly,
"and tasks to treacherous memory committed may
be forgotten; but will you forget these weighty
words: will you be constant, oh, will you prove
true; for did I give you all I have, my love, what
were there left me should you throw it away?"

"Injurious and incredulous one," returned Montigny,
"save Lucifer, who ever threw from him heaven?"

"Forgive me," she replied, "it is but a timid girl
that speaks. She did not doubt you, though she
sought to prove you. Yet are you sure you love
her? Ask your heart, then render me its reply,
as one might do, who having listened for me to the
murmuring shell, should bring me tidings of the
storm-vexed sea. Vow not, but listen."


 [[42]]
 {{gardnp043.png}} || The Advocate ||


Montigny seemed for awhile to listen to his heart;
then, looking at her, replied:

"Surer than is assurance itself I am yours. Say
that you' are mine, and every further word shall<--bad
that you are mine, and every further word shall<--new
seem only to be redundant and apochryphal; for when
love's lips have made their revelation, what more
is wanting to complete the canon."

"Believe that I have said it," she half whispered;
then, starting, and changing color, "hist, hist," she
added, "once more I hear it: heard you nothing?"<--bad
added, "once more I hear it: heard _you_ nothing?"<--new

"I nothing heard but you," replied Montigny:
"Proceed; for your voice is sweeter to me than plash-
ing fountain's, or than Saint Laurent's chimes, or
than would be -- could we hear it -- the fabulous mu-
sic of those night-hung spheres, coming harmonious
to our listening ears, borne on the shoulders of the
cherub winds. Why are you silent?"

"Listen," she said, looking still more alarmed.

"I do," he answered.

"Yet heard you nothing?"

"Nothing but ourselves."

"Nothing besides?"

"What further should I hear?" he asked.<--bad
What further should I hear?" he asked.<--new

"And yet it seemed as if I heard another," she
continued. "Are we watched? speak, tell me," she
demanded, -- "I hear it again; listen."

Montigny listened a moment, then replied sooth-
ingly:

"Dismiss these pale-cheeked panics, for you hear
nothing; or if you do it is but the common voices of
the night. It is merely the hoarse bullfrog croaking
in the swamp; and the green grasshopper a chirrup-
ping in the meadow; for, saving these, all nature

 [[43]]
 {{gardnp044.png}} || The Advocate ||

with myself is listening to you. Be reassured: there
is nothing, but what your own excited fancy has
conjured: even the wind has ceased to sigh amongst
the leaves; the moon stands still, and her arrested
beam no longer draws the shadow on the dreamy
dial. Then, proceed, my love, for when you speak
you fill my ears with heaven, but when you pause
then opens the abyss."

"Yet listen; I hear it again:" she said; "it was
not fancy; no."

"What else? what can befall you, love, whilst I am
here?" he murmured.

"Nothing, I hope," she answered, falteringly.<--bad
"Nothing. I hope," she answered, falteringly.<--new

"Then nothing dread."

"I dread to say it, yet I must: Good night."

"Already?" he demanded.

"All too long!" cried an imperious voice; and the
advocate stood before them.

"Amanda, ah, Amanda, Miss Macdonald," he con-
tinued, "is it thus you fool us? Go, bird, into your<--bad
tinued, is it thus you fool us? Go, bird, into your<--new
cage. Nurse, take my lady in." And Amanda beheld
behind her the melancholy Mona, half shrouded in a
cloak covering her night attire.

Silently they both of them withdrew, and the
stranger was left alone with the advocate, who, lay-
ing his hand detectingly on the other's shoulder, thus
addressed him:

"Claude Montigny, I do not ask of you what brings
you here, for I have something overheard, and in
that something, all. Given the arc, the eye com-
pletes the perfect circle; furnished the angle and the
object's distance, and we can tell the dizzy altitude.
Mark me, sir. We climb with risk, but there is

 [[44]]
 {{gardnp044a.png}} || The Advocate ||

 [Illustration: "Amanda, oh! Amanda, is it thus you fool us?"]

 [[44a]]
 {{gardnp044b.png}} || The Advocate ||

 [illustration-backside]

 [[44b]]
 {{gardnp045.png}} || The Advocate ||

greater danger in descending. Young sir seigneur,
you have ascended to a height you may not safely
stoop from. As sportive and adventurous schoolboys
sometimes ascend a scaffolding in the absence of the
builders, and continue to scale from tier to tier,
until they pause for breath; so, I fear, that you this
night, in her protector's absence, have soared in the
affections of my ward. Beware, beware: I would
not threaten you -- a gentleman neither needs nor
brooks a threat -- but, by my life and the strength
that yet is left me, woe to the man that shall fool me
in yonder girl! Seek not to trifle with me, Claude
Montigny. Tell me your purpose; inform me how
your acquaintance with my ward began; how it was
fostered; how it has been concealed; and how it thus
has ripened into this secret, midnight interview.
Speak; what do you say, sir, in arrest of judgment?
Be seated, and recount to me the story of your
love, if you do love my ward -- as you have told
her that you do -- and to that love be attached
a story, long or brief; or if this passion -- which
you have propounded most passionately to her --
be of a mere mushroom growth, born of to-night,
sown by the hand of moonlight in a girl's dark eyes;
or in her heart, perhaps, by the fairies that you
spoke of, and producing some form of feeling or
forced fruit of fancy; coeval with, and meant to
be as transient, as is the present fungi of these
fields. Sit down by me, and let your tongue a true
deliverance make between yourself, me, and my
foster-daughter." And seating himself heavily on
a garden bench, and leaning with both hands clasped
over the top of his gold-headed cane, he looked

 [[45]]
 {{gardnp046.png}} || The Advocate ||

enquiringly up into the face of the young man, and
added: "Come, plead before me to this charge of
heart-stealing, as touching which you have been taken
in the act."

"Sir," then said the stranger with dignity, whilst
he slowly seated himself; "sir, you are justified in
thus misdoubting me; for though a gentleman should,
like the wife of Caesar, be above suspicion, never yet
knew chivalry a time but there were recreant knights.
Moreover, I can perceive that circumstances now
must shadow, and, as with refracting influence,
distort me, so that I may well stand here seeming to
be deformed, although my soul, if you could see it,
would show wanting no part of honour's fair propor-
tions. Hear me, then, patiently, for I plead less for
my own defence than for her vindication who has
just retired beneath your frown."

And the ingenuous but compromised Montigny
sketched the brief history of his passion, and when
he had done, the advocate, looking into his counte-
nance keenly, but confidingly, rejoined:

"You speak the truth, I know it by your eye,
wherein no falsehood might harbour for a moment;
yet, young seigneur, you have entered on a perilous
path; dare you walk in it? It is the way of honor,
and will prove to be the way of safety; but, beshrew
me, if I do not fear that it may prove to you a way
of pain. Whatever may be the ways of wisdom, the
ways of honour are not always ways of pleasantness,
nor is the path of duty always one of peace. If you
would wear the rose you must grasp it as it grows
amidst the thorns. And now, farewell -- yet, hold.
I hold you to your bond. The forfeit were the

 [[46]]
 {{gardnp047.png}} || The Advocate ||

forfeit of your word, which you have pledged to me
and mine. Remember, not only have you offered
love unto my ward, but you have been accepted."

"Even so:" exclaimed Montigny; "and may--"

"Call nothing down that might become your
harm," said the advocate admonishingly: "Rain has
before now become transformed to hailstones, and
done much damage; and dews descending so benignly,
have once, it is said, in form of rain, swelled to a
deluge that has drowned the world. May the skies be
still propitious to you, Claude Montigny. Although
temptation burn as fiercely as dogdays, do not fall
beneath it, for less hurtful were a hundred sunstrokes
to the body, than to the soul is one temptation that
hath overcome it. Again farewell." And he pressed
Claude's hand convulsively, then tossed it from him
half disdainfully, and both departed from the grounds.



 [[47]]
 {{gardnp048.png}} || The Advocate ||






 Chapter VIII.


     "Think no more of this night's accidents."
     -- _Midsummer Night's Dream._


From Stillyside Claude Montigny rode towards the
western extremity of the island; his thoughts steeped
in bliss, and the country, as it slumbered in the
moonlight, seeming to him the land of Elysium. At
the ferry of Pointe Saint Claire he engaged a bateau
in which he was rowed over the confluence of the
rivers Ottawa and Saint Lawrence by four boatmen
who, from time to time, in a low tone, as if afraid
of awakening the dawn, chaunted, now an old song
of Normandy, and now a ballad upon the fate of some
lost voyageur. The moon was yet shining, and he
was in the mood to enjoy such minstrelsy; but when
they neared the opposite shore, a feeling of sadness
and apprehension stole over him, as he thought
of meeting his father, to whom he knew he must
either communicate distasteful tidings, or what was
worse to his ingenuous mind, practice a culpable con-
cealment. Thus musing, as day broke he leaped on
shore, and again mounting his horse rode thoughtful
through forest and farm; now reburied in the dark-
ness of night, which yet lingered amidst the foliage,
and now emerging into the light of the clearing; un-
til, as the sun was rising over the opposite bank of
the St. Lawrence, he entered the manorial gates of

 [[48]]
 {{gardnp049.png}} || The Advocate ||

Mainville, and passing through the park-like grounds,
was once more in the proud home of the Montignys.

Meantime, Amanda Macdonald had not slept.
Shame, joy, fear, hope possessed her; but fear chiefly,
for she dreaded the coming morrow, when she must
meet her foster-mother, and -- what to her was yet
more terrible -- her, as she supposed, deeply offended
guardian; and it was not till the birds began to
chirp and flit about her window, that she fell into a
deep, refreshing slumber that lasted long into the
day, and was at length broken by the voice of Mona
bidding her arise.

The advocate, on the other hand, who had at once
returned to town, arose at his usual hour, and repair-
ing to his office, began the business of the day;
whilst at a later period, the dissipated Narcisse again
found his boon companions, and with them renewed
the debauch of yesterday.

During the day the anxious Mona did not fail to
question her charge touching the interrupted inter-
view; and the latter at length related how it had be-
fallen, confessed to her sudden passion for the gallant
Montigny, revealed his plighted vows, and confiding
herself to the bosom where she had always found ad-
vice and comfort, deprecated the displeasure of her
guardian. But the betrayed Mona could give her
only slight encouragement, in what was now yet
nearer to her than even her guardian's favor, her
lover's truth.

"Child," said Mona to her emphatically and in a
warning tone, after musing, "Child, hope not too
much; fear everything, for man is naturally false to-
wards woman. Ah, you have yet learned but little

 [[49]]
 {{gardnp050.png}} || The Advocate ||

of man, and may you never learn too much. Beware,
beware, beware, Amanda. Happy the ignorant, hap-
py is the woman whom no false man has taught
to distrust his sex! Man's love to woman is as evan-
escent as is the presence of the summer-morning mist,
that, for an hour or so, hugs lovingly the lea, then
vanishes for ever. What are his vows but vapour?
Poor, rash girl, why, without warning me, have you
opened the horn-book of love, and spelled at such a
speed, that, in a day's time, you have read as far as
warier maids dare con in years?" And Amanda
looked both abashed and amazed; but at length
enquired in wonder:

"What may you mean by these strange utterances?
Nay, nay, dear Mona: you slander your own father by
this language."

"Thou canst not say, child, that I slander thine,"
responded Mona, tartly; and her countenance darken-
ed with an equivocal expression new to Amanda, who,
catching at the inuendo, earnestly demanded,

"Who was my father? tell me, for you know; I
myself know, I feel, (and not untrustworthy is this
intuition) that I am not here a mere fortuitous
foundling. Who was my mother? I charge you to
inform me--"<--bad
inform me.''<--new

"Girl, had not man been false, you had not needed
to have so often asked of me that question," Mona
replied with a cynical expression, and hoarse, sepul-
chral voice, that, whilst it seemed to vindicate her-
self, reproved her fellow, on whose face an air of hor-
ror now mantled, as she excitedly exclaimed:

"Say more, or else unsay what you have already
uttered. What must be understood from this alarm-

 [[50]]
 {{gardnp051.png}} || The Advocate ||

ing language? Although there hangs a mystery
over my birth, surely there rests upon it no dishonor.
Acquaint me, then, once more I charge you, and now
by the love and kindness that you have always
shewn to me, declare, for you know -- I say I feel you<--bad
shown to me, declare, for you know -- I say I feel you<--new
know; whose child am I, where was I born, how
have I been committed to your care, adopted, cherish-
ed; I, who have no filial claims upon you; adjudged
to be an orphan, perhaps the child of charity; how
have I been divided between you and my guardian,
or held as if I were your mutual bond? Inform me,
Mona, my good Mona, foster-mother, nurse, you who
have been to me as a true mother might be, say
whose I am; whether, and where, my parents live;
and, if they live, why they have thus abandoned
me," and she burst into a flood of tears.

"Quiet yourself, my fond one," answered Mona,
moved also to tears by this appeal; "your birth on
one side is as high as any that this country boasts,
therefore is as high as Claude Montigny's. Your mo-
ther is descended from a warlike Scottish line,
your father's father was an English peer. Your pa-
rents are yet living; but their union, which was in
many points unequal, was, alas! rendered the more
unequal by a gulf-like disproportion in the passion
that provoked it; -- a gulf, too, that was undiscovered,
till, too late, your mother saw it. Thence, their
lives, their loves, so call it, their mutual progress
(save on the course of fondness towards yourself,
their child, whereon they journey equal side by side)
has for years kept, and yet keeps, a still disparting
pace; and, oh, Amanda, excuse these tears, for well I
know your mother, and pity her, having many a

 [[51]]
 {{gardnp052.png}} || The Advocate ||

time listened to her fruitless complaints; but until
your father, who is the laggard one of this most mis-
appointed pair, shall, either underneath the whip of
a castigating conscience, or prompted by the spur of
your poor mother's sharp appeals, come up abreast,
and fill a certain chasm of omission by an indemnify-
ing deed, which has been by him most selfishly left
undone, but whose performance is essential to the full
fruition by you of your fortune, you must remain, as
you have hitherto done, my foster-child, and your
grim guardian's ward; a waif we hold waiting
for its claimants; and until they arrive, let me
beseech you, as though I were the mother I have
spoken of, to think no further of young Claude
Montigny."



 [[52]]
 {{gardnp053.png}} || The Advocate ||






 Chapter IX.


     "Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me: I am sick in
     displeasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly
     with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage?"
     -- _Much ado about nothing._


A few days after the conversation detailed in the
preceding chapter, there was ushered into the office
of the advocate at Montreal a gentleman, who an-<--bad
of the advocate at Montreal a "gentleman, who an-<--new
nounced himself as Montigny, Seigneur of Mainville.
He was tall, and of a distinguished aspect, and had
scarcely accepted of the advocate's invitation to be
seated, when, like a man impatient to be done with
a disagreeable business, he began:

"I have a son, sir, and you, as I believe, a ward,
an orphan girl;" pronouncing with a mixture of pity
and contempt the last two words.

The advocate observed this depreciatory intonation,
and throwing himself backwards in his large easy
chair, repeated: "An orphan girl," at the same time
putting a half angry, half comical expression into his
countenance, and perpetrating a pun in what followed:"<--bad
countenance, and perpetrating a pun in what followed:<--new
"Yes, many of your Canadian noblesse would bless
themselves to have been her father. The poor fellow,
it is well he is not here to have overheard you. An
orphan girl: true, as you say, I have an orphan girl, --
or one that passes for such; a girl I love, a ward, a
charming child, yonder at Stillyside. Were I dis-
posed to praise her I might say she is the Mountain's
maid; the Dryad of its woods, a grace, a goddess,

 [[53]]
 {{gardnp054.png}} || The Advocate ||

fairer than Diana, and far purer, for one may guess
the fool Diana made of that poor boy, Endymion.
But what concerning my ward, sir, 'my most imma-<--bad
But what concerning my ward, sir, my most imma-<--new
culate lady?"

"Would you forbid my son access to her?" en-<--bad
"Would yon forbid my son access to her?" en-<--new
quired the seigneur.

"Ah! you wish for an injunction;" said the
advocate; "show me cause. I have, sir -- as you
seem aware -- a ward dwelling yonder at my seat at
Stillyside; -- a place I sometimes visit; a sort of
shrine, a kind of hermitage or chapel, wherein two
devotees, two nun-like, holy women consume the
hours; leading there, pious, penitential lives, making
each day a sort of hallowed tide, and every eve a
vigil."

"You are humorous," replied the seigneur. "Ex-
cuse me, I am sorry, but it were best that I should
speak plainly. I would not wish to see your ward
dishonored."

"Dishonored! not a seigneur, nor a seigneur's son
dare dream of such a consummation, nor, daring so to
dream, could compass it," cried the advocate, growing
crimson. "Yet this is kind of you;" he added,
"bowing as if deeply grateful; -- "and yet," he con-<--bad
bowing as if deeply grateful; -- "and yet," he con-<--new
tinued, "there can be no fear of an offence: is not
your son a clergyman? for, if he be, and they confess
to him anything worse than to have admitted him to
their confidence -- why, sir, he shall be allowed to
enter, and shrive them when he chooses;" and after
a momentary silence, "Fie! fie!" he resumed, roll-
ing in his chair; "'the fool hath said in his heart<--bad
ling in his chair; "'the fool hath said in his heart<--new
there is no God,' and the wise man of Mainville,
who has been all his life looking for purity in a

 [[54]]
 {{gardnp055.png}} || The Advocate ||

petticoat, says 'there is no virtue in woman.' But
I say, both these oracles are in the wrong; there is
not only a Divinity, but there are women too who
are virtuous. This is a clumsy jest, sir. My ward
be dishonored by your son? Yes, when the diamond
can be cut with a feather. Monsieur Montigny, a
tempest is as harmless as a breath, when that tempest
is being hurled against the rock; a breath is even as
effectual as is a tempest, when that breath is puffed
against the dust. So buzzing blandishments of sigh-
ing fops, may blow the frail flowerets from weak,
wanton natures; whilst vehement vows of otherwise
most honorable men, though urged as strongly as the
northern blast, are in vain against the marble front
of virtue. I am marble to your wishes."

"You: weigh your danger as little as you do your<--bad
"You weigh your danger as little as you do your<--new
language," observed the seigneur. "Will you per-
mit a trespasser, a tempter within your grounds; a
wolf, a fox, a bear within your fold?"

The advocate shrugged his shoulders and replied:
"No, heaven forbid; -- and Stillyside is to me as an
outer court of heaven, wherein my ward dwells as a
sort of semi-solitary angel."

"Yet angels fell, and so may she fall," interjected
the seigneur quickly.

"They did, and without a tempter, too, Monsieur
Montigny," returned the advocate, quietly; then
added: "the height of heaven turned the heads of the
angels giddy."

"Girls are giddy," remarked the seigneur gravely.<--bad
"Girls are giddy." remarked the seigneur gravely.<--new

"Boys are more frequently foolish," drily retorted
the advocate: "and often coming to girls for kisses, go
away with cuffs. I hope your son has neither sought

 [[55]]
 {{gardnp056.png}} || The Advocate ||

for the one nor yet received the other. But what is
this son, Monsieur Montigny, that you would have
me believe to be so formidable? Is he another Lu-
cifer, couched at my ward's ear, as his dark prototype
once squatted at that of Eve? Or is he Lothario alive
again? Is he Leander, and are the Ottawa's jaws a
western Hellespont, with my ward and Stillyside, for
Hero and her tower?"

"Your verandah," remarked the seigneur, "is not
higher than was Hero's tower, although, I trust, your
ward's virtue may be more exalted than was Hero's.
But are you aware, sir, that already my son has had
her company, alone, at midnight, on your grounds;
all others retired; she alone watching, with Claude
Montigny and the broad, full moon?"

"An actionable moon," exclaimed the lawyer, "and
a decided case of lunacy against the lovers. But,
alas, sir, in this respect we have all been sinners in
our youth, and all grown wondrous righteous with
our years. Have we not ourselves, when we were
young, -- ay, and upon inclement winter nights too,
courted brown peasant girls beneath both stars and
moon? What if the nights were cold, the blood was
warm; and now with these volcanic veins of ours
grown cool, why, we may walk on the quenched crater
of concupiscence, and who dares challenge us, and say,
ha, ha! smut clings to you, gentlemen; you have
the smell of fire upon you. No, sir, no; we are fu-<--bad
the smell of fire upon you. No, sir, no: we are fu-<--new
migated, ventilated, scented, powdered, purged as with
hyssop. Pish! he must be truly an Ethiop, whom
time cannot whiten; a very leopard, who will not
part with his spots, since the sun himself shall lose
his some day, purged in his own fires."<--bad
_his_ some day, purged in his own fires."<--new


 [[56]]
 {{gardnp057.png}} || The Advocate ||


"I repeat, sir, your ward is in danger," said the
seigneur doggedly.

"Not at all. Is the diamond in danger when it is
put into the crucible; is the gold deteriorated when
it is being deterged from dross?" was responded.

"Infatuated man, would you open the door to the
seducer?" asked the seigneur, growing angry with
the contumelious lawyer.

"Seducer!" said the advocate, affecting to be
shocked: "that is a huge stone to throw at your own<--bad
shocked:" that is a huge stone to throw at your own<--new
son: and remember; is not every man's frame a glass
house, whereat the soul that inhabits it should invite
no stone throwing from the little red catapult of a
neighbour's tongue? Beware, beware; have mercy,
Monsieur Montigny. 'All flesh is grass,' the Pro-
phet proclaims; but I assert, 'All flesh is glass.'"<--bad
phet Proclaims; but I assert. 'All flesh is glass.'"<--new

"A woman's reputation is as brittle," was the
seigneur's ready repartee; "therefore warn off my son
from Stillyside."

"But should he not regard me, sir, what then?"

"Brandish the law over him, your chosen weapon,"
answered the seigneur.

The lawyer suddenly looked grave, and, affecting to
be offended, demanded sternly: "Monsieur Montigny,
am I a mere mechanic to do your bidding? Brandish
the law indeed! Is, then, the law but an ordinary
cudgel, to thwack the shoulders with or beat the
brains out? The law, sir, is a sacred weapon, not to<--bad
brains out" The law, sir, is a sacred weapon, not to<--new
be lightly taken up, neither to be profanely applied
to paltry uses, any more than we would take the
tempered razor to pick a bone, or pare our cheese
with. Brandish the law! The man that can talk
of brandishing the law would brandish a piece of the

 [[57]]
 {{gardnp058.png}} || The Advocate ||

true cross, sir, if he had it; he would drink, sir, from
his mother's skull, and with his father's thigh-bones
play at shinty. What is the law? What less is it
than the will and force of all employed for one; the
savage sense of justice, disciplined and drilled till it
can move in regular array, invincibly, to conquer
wrong; surely too vast an engine to be employed on
trifles. Who wants a wheel to break a butterfly upon;
or, to crush a worm who calls for a pavior's rammer?
Monsieur Montigny, listen. Mercy is Heaven's first
attribute, and the executioner is the State's meanest,
as well as last, servant; shall I, then, stoop to this,
who may aspire to that? Shall I wield a whip of
legal scorpions before your son, should he seek to re-
enter Stillyside? Would you have me, as once Heaven's
cherubim stood at the gates of Paradise, with fiery
swords turning all ways, to hinder its ejected tenants
from breaking back into the garden, -- would you have
me, I say, stand at my gates at Stillyside, and, meet-
ing young Montigny, flourish in his face a fist full of
fasces, in the form of threatened pains and penalties?
No; your suit, sir, is denied: you take nothing by
your motion."

"Dare you deny," retorted the seigneur, loudly,
and with a look of coming triumph; "dare you deny
that you are privy to their intimacy; will you assert
that you -- yourself unseen -- have not witnessed my
son in secret, midnight conversation with your ward at
Stillyside; there overheard them interchanging vows
of endless love, and dealing declarations of devoted-
ness unto each other; -- I ask you; did you not hear
and see these doings, and, even when you did at
length surprise the pair, did you not by failing to
condemn their folly, give it your silent sanction?"


 [[58]]
 {{gardnp059.png}} || The Advocate ||


"Something of this I did," said the advocate
coolly, "for I remembered some rather liberal
breathings of my own when I was young, -- and
youth will have its fling, -- nay, do not bite your lip,
but listen. Monsieur Montigny, thus far we have met
guile with guile. Just like two wily fencers, both of
us, waiting to spy our advantage, have still witheld
the lunge, until, at last, you, having grown desperate,
have rushed into the close. Yet, do not let your
anger overbear discretion. The heated iron hisses
when it is plunged into the trough, but shall we hiss
at each other like geese or serpents? Shall we quarrel<--bad
at each other like geese or serpents? Shall we quarrel,<--new
deny the undeniable, try to undo the accomplished
deed? What is done is done, and not Omnipotence
itself, sir, could undo it."

"But we may hinder further evil," observed the
seigneur.

"Ay? Would you keep out the lightning by
high builded walls?" demanded the advocate, "for
you are as likely to accomplish that, as to keep
lovers from each other. No, let them alone, for they
are as climbing Titans towards their wishes' skies;
despising guardians' gates and fathers' fences, just as
much as did Briareus and his crew disdain its rugged
sides, and risk their necks up steep Olympus, when
they were making war on Jove. You cannot bar
them. The sun may be debarred from attics, and frost
may be kept out of cellars, but. Monsieur Montigny,<--bad
may be kept out of cellars, but, Monsieur Montigny,<--new
the mutually enamoured can never be permanently
parted. Sir, no more."

"Enamoured he, and she at length dishonoured,"
cried the seigneur, disregarding the injunction.

"Her honour is its own sufficient guardian," was
responded.


 [[59]]
 {{gardnp060.png}} || The Advocate ||


"Have regard, sir, to your future peace," was
urged.

"Peace, sir, like silence, never comes for calling
for," rejoined the advocate.

"Impracticable man, have you no fear?" demanded
the foiled Montigny upbraidingly.

"None for my ward; I hope you have as little for
your son," said the lawyer sarcastically.<--bad
your son," said, the lawyer sarcastically.<--new

"Your ward invites my son, by sitting upon the
verandah at midnight, to attract him when he passes
by, as the Hebrew woman, Tamar, once sat to decoy
the foolish Judah. Do you deny this? I have
learned all, all," outburst the indignant seigneur.

"Do I deny it?" cried the advocate, the blood, in
anger, rushing to his face. "Dare you affirm it?
Monsieur, if you mean seriously to asperse my ward,
I say, prepare; -- not for the action of the law, -- no,
no, I hate the law, when it is cited for myself, -- but
for the action of an old man's arm. Sir, I have been
a swordsman in my youth, and though the lank ske-
leton of my skill at fence is buried in disuse, it moves
now in the grave of this right hand, that so long has
wielded only the quiet quill. I do not bid you quail;
not I, -- but, by the angry devil of the duel, you
answer me, either sword point to sword point; or
from the pointing pistol, that shall speak both sharp
and decisive, and the dotting bullet, perhaps, put a
period to your proud life's scrawl. But no; I am
grown too old to have recourse to violence. Away,
go, go; but, mind you, do not breathe this calumny
into a human ear, -- no, not into the air. Shame,
shame! you are no noble minded man, to villify my
ward and your own son; whom, if I accounted to be

 [[60]]
 {{gardnp061.png}} || The Advocate ||

as strangely base as you have shown yourself to be,
and have depicted him, I would forbid to tread within
my gates, and hound him from my door at Stillyside."

"Words only anger you," said the astonished and
half daunted seigneur.

"Such words as yours have been:" was replied.
"What! do you expect to strike upon a bank where
bees have settled, yet not be stung; or dream to be
allowed to draw the bare hand, clasping down a sword,
but not be wounded?"

"What shall I say, yet not offend you?" soothingly
enquired Montigny.

"Say what you will," the advocate continued:
"what can be worse than what you have said already?"

"Hear me," said the seigneur, in the manner of
one who is going to make a confidential proposal:<--bad
one who is going to make, a confidential proposal:<--new
"Either remove your ward, and receive a compensa-
tion for her absence, or quickly marry her, and I will
provide her with a dower."

"Now you are indeed a generous gentleman," said
the advocate, smiling; "You must have built
churches, surely, or founded hospitals, and always
have dealt out dollars liberally to the deserving.
But you are wealthy, and can do these things without
being impoverished. It is fortunate that you are
wealthy, for I shall accept of no paltry sum. Only
imagine, to have to banish her; to quench, or to
remove, the very beam that fills my life with light.
You must be liberal, if you would have me exile her
Come, sign me a bond for what I shall demand."

"You are in haste," observed the seigneur, some-
what startled at the advocate catching so readily at
the bait; but the latter was ready with his reply:


 [[61]]
 {{gardnp062.png}} || The Advocate ||


"Because your son may now be at Stillyside, and,
whilst we are haggling, may carry off my ward, -- or
I might change my mind," he answered.

"And I, too, may change mine," was the rejoinder.

"Why, then, we are quits;" observed the advo-
cate carelessly, and as if all parley were at an end;
"we are as we were, and, for the young ones, they
are as they were; but if I know the force of youthful
blood, you, with all your endeavours, will not be able
long to keep them apart."

"What is your price for her expatriation?"
demanded the seigneur sullenly, as if coming to terms;
and the advocate replied:

"No, marry her, marry her; we will have her
married. We either marry her or do nothing in this
business, sir, which, after all, were, perhaps, best left
to those who have most interest in it; -- but if you
think differently, be it yours to find the money, I
will find' the match: -- and let it be understood, that<--bad
will find the match: -- and let it be understood, that<--new
you find her a dowry which would be fitting for a
seigneur's daughter; or else, without a dowry, I shall
not scruple to give her to a seigneur's son. Why
are you silent?"

The proud, perplexed parent made no answer, but
secretly groaned in his dilemma, and at length ex-<--bad
secretly, groaned in his dilemma, and at length ex-<--new
claimed: "Insatiate old man, have you no son, the
thought of which may teach you to be just towards
me and mine? What do I ask of you? Little, -- or
what would cost you little, yet you ask a fortune of
me; and to enrich, too, one, whom, as a punishment,
I have reason rather to desire should always be poor.
Do not deny it; she has ensnared my son. It is
impossible, that he who has roamed over half the

 [[62]]
 {{gardnp063.png}} || The Advocate ||

world, and has yet come home uncaptivated, though
in his travels he has met the fairest and the richest,
can have been caught at the mere passing by your farm
of Stillyside, can at a glance have been so smitten as
to meditate this marriage. No, he has been decoyed,
seduced. You might as well declare that a young
eagle would not return to its nest, but plunge
into some casually discovered coop, and roost there,
as aver that, without some irregular influence, Claude
Montigny would seek your ward in marriage. If she
marry him, she will marry a beggar: not an acre of
mine shall he inherit, not a dollar of mine will he
receive. Give her a dowry? Give her a dukedom.
No, sir; I will not buy brass from you at the price
of gold; I will not subsidize you to avoid your ward."<--bad
of gold; will not subsidize you to avoid your ward."<--new
And, with the words, he bowed himself out of the
room, and the advocate, casting himself backwards in
his easy chair, laughing, exclaimed: "Was ever such a
proposition started? -- started! yes; and shall event-
ually be carried. It is not what we do, but it is the
motive that induced the deed, that gives the color to
it. She shall be Madam Montigny, in spite of old
Montigny's self; and for her dowry, (which I asked
Montigny to provide, only that it might be returned
to him through his son), I'll mortgage my old brains
to procure it for her."



 [[63]]
 {{gardnp064.png}} || The Advocate ||






 Chapter X.


     While you here do snoring lie
     Open-ey'd conspiracy
     His time doth take:<--bad
          His time doth take:<--new
     If of life you keep a care,<--bad
     If of life you keep a care.<--new
     Shake off slumber, and beware:
          Awake! Awake!
     -- _The Tempest._


Amongst the seigniories contiguous to the eastern
extremity of the island of Montreal, lies that of
Montboeuf. Its present owner was Andre Duchatel,
a descendent of the Sieur Duchatel, a cadet of an
ancient French noble family, to whom the seigniory
was granted by royal letters patent, about the middle
of the seventeenth century. But if any nobility of
soul, or refinement of aspect existed in the first of
the Canadian dynasty of Duchatel, it had not been
transmitted to the living representative of the line.
As the long hung-up sword or unused ploughshare,
lose their brightness and edge from want of use,
perhaps these qualities of mind and body had disap-
peared for want of a fitter field for their display.
Andre Duchatel, seigneur of Montboeuf, was a
vulgar looking, short, broad-set, florid figure, of fifty
years or so; material in his tastes, in disposition
obstinate and narrow-minded, unenlarged by educa-
tion; shy with strangers, yet fond of good fellowship
with his acquaintance, and, with much reason,
accounted to be rich. He was a widower, but lived

 [[64]]
 {{gardnp065.png}} || The Advocate ||

in a kind of surly, patriarchal state, in the midst of
three sons and a daughter; the former being dissi-<--bad
three sons and a daughter: the former being dissi-<--new
pated and sensual, the latter of a showy person, but
in character, superficial, vain, vindictive, proud.

An intimacy had long existed between the houses
of Montigny and Duchatel, which, in spite of their
different genius, had for generations continued as it
were to shake hands across the island. The latter
family, though equal to the former in wealth and
pedigree, secretly acknowledged it as the superior,
and with a view to an alliance between the two,
Seraphine Duchatel, even when a child, was a fre-
quent visitor at Mainville; her relations hoping that
thereby, she and Claude Montigny might become
inspired with a mutual liking, the prelude to their
desired union.

This union, it was understood, was to be cemented
on the part of Duchatel, by the gift, as her marriage
portion, of a tract of land adjoining the seigniory of
Mainville, and at present the property of Andre
Duchatel; but which, at the nuptials, would be<--bad
Duchatel; but which, at the nuptials, would he<--new
added to the Montigny manor, as a sort of arriere
fief, and so gratify the craving of the elder Montigny
for territorial aggrandizement. The splendid person
of Claude had long ago caught the slight affections
of Seraphine, who in her visits to Mainville, would
hang upon him, much to his distaste, and persist to
make him her reluctant cavalier, though neither her
blandishments nor his father's wishes could induce
him to return these visits, or appear to reciprocate
her preference. Nor would a closer and wider
acquaintance with the Duchatels have lessened his
reluctance. The eldest son, Samson, was a colossal

 [[65]]
 {{gardnp066.png}} || The Advocate ||

bully, dividing his time between field sports, intem-
perance, and intrigues with the daughters of the
censitors on his father's seigniory; or in yet lower
illicit amours with the peasant girls of the manorial
village; varied by occasional journeys, made more
for debauchery than business, to the city of Montreal.
The second scion of the house, Pierre, was a good-
enough looking, and not ill-disposed youth; whom<--bad
enough looking, and Hot ill-disposed youth; whom<--new
his father, as if willing to offer up his choicest lamb
for the sins of the family fold, had intended for the
church. But the former had far other intentions,<--bad
church. But the former had far other intentions<--new
towards the fair than absolving them from their
peccadilloes, and entertained other ideas of foreign<--bad
peccadilloes, and entertained, other ideas of foreign<--new
travel than that of going on distant Indian missions;
whilst the youngest brother, Alphonse, was an
unbroken colt and madcap, articled to one of the
principal legal firms in the city. Although in years
he was but ancle deep, he was already in potations
full five fathoms; a worthy graduate of the licen-
tiousness of the town, and boon companion of the
dissolute Narcisse; whom, in a giddy moment he
had made acquainted with the family matrimonial
design on young Montigny. Narcisse, in his turn,
had a domestic story, that instinct, revenge, and a
mother's command impelled him to relate, and which
he told to the rollicking, but now attentive Alphonse,
with a wicked glee, raised by the prospect of mis-
chief A discovery had been made by his brooding<--bad
chief. A discovery had been made by his brooding<--new
and despised parent. Chance had thrown in her
way an opportunity for which she had watched for
years. Mona Macdonald had visited the advocate at
his dwelling, and her presence had stirred not only
the womanly curiosity of the lynx-eyed Babet Blais,

 [[66]]
 {{gardnp067.png}} || The Advocate ||

but her malicious jealousy of one whom she could
never but regard as a hateful and favored rival. So,
overhearing them in earnest conversation in the
library, she, with the unrestrained enjoyment of a
low, untutored nature, stole to the door, that was
slightly ajar, and there, with her ear applied to the
interstice, learned the circumstance of the discovered
interview between Claude and Amanda at Stillyside,
with their plighted troth, not disapproved of by the
advocate. Swelling with envy and anger, and recol-
lecting what Narcisse had told her of the predilection<--bad
lecting what Narcisse had told her of the predilection,<--new
and hopes of Alphonse Duchatel's sister in regard to
Claude Montigny, she, with an intent to dash the
proud prospect which seemed to be opening before
the child of an odious -- and as she deemed, unlawful
competitor for the advocate's favors, conceived the
spiteful idea of informing the Duchatels of what she
had just discovered. Further to instigate her, all the
real and all the fancied wrongs that her son had suffered
from his father rose up before her, magnified by her
imagination, and prompting her to the gratification
of her unreasoning spleen. Her purpose was soon
put into execution. That night Narcisse came home
sober; and giving him some warm supper, followed
by a delicacy that she had set aside for him as a
dessert, and which, with a half human, half animal
affection, she watched him devour, she broke the
subject to him. He grinned with an infantile
delight, as he heard the important secret, and dis-
cussed with her the project that might hinder the
good fortune of the haughty foundling, whose disdain
had long chagrined him, and under the recollection
of whose scorn during the recent raid on Stillyside,

 [[67]]
 {{gardnp068.png}} || The Advocate ||

he was yet smarting. With heightened pleasure she
beheld his joyful interest, and, warming with his
sympathy, whilst she gloated over the anticipated
revenge, she exclaimed, as her face assumed a dark,
prophetic aspect: "Yes, we will humble that mon-
grel, and her proud, petted child. What better are
they than we, what nearer to thy father? See how
I toil, and do his drudgery; keep him a home, who,
but for me, would have no home, and no one to care
for' him. Yet no fine country house for me, fine<--bad
for him. Yet no fine country house for me, fine<--new
clothes, rich presents; no fine gifts for thee, my child,
no endless schooling, no sending thee to travel; no<--bad
no endless schooling, no sending _thee_ to travel; no<--new
allowance, no expense to help to make of thee a gentler<--bad
allowance, no expense to help to make of thee a gentle-<--new
man, like his endeavours to make her child a lady;
no fine lady sought for thee to be thy wife, Narcisse;
no closetings for me, who, but for her, had been thy
father's wife, and not his servant. But God and the
virgin have at last heard our prayers, Narcisse, my<--bad
virgin have at last heard our prayers. Narcisse, my<--new
darling, tell Alphonse Duchatel all that I have told
thyself. Bid him quickly inform his father, brothers,
sister; and if they have French blood in their veins
they will balk this half-breed and her daughter
brat.<--bad
brat."<--new

Never was there an apter pupil than Narcisse
proved now; never a willinger. Scarcely could he
refrain from at once rushing forth to find his friend,
Alphonse; and he did at length arise with the
blessing and Godspeed of his mother, intending to
inform him, touching the rival who had so far and
so suddenly outstripped his sister on the road of
Claude's regard, when the voice of the advocate was
heard calling upon his son to attend him in the room
above. Narcisse obeyed; but filled with a sentiment

 [[68]]
 {{gardnp069.png}} || The Advocate ||

of rising rebellion and new-born insolence, as of one
who intends no longer to be checked, nor submit to<--bad
who intends no longer to lie checked, nor submit to<--new
unmerited harshness and tyranny. There the two
had an altercation, provoked by the old grudges, and
aggravated by Narcisse's recent dissipation, escapade,
and neglect of duty, and still more sharpened by his
present pertness and contumacy. Anger rose high
between parent and child, and the latter, in uncon-
cealed dudgeon flung from the room, and left the house,
his breast charged with a spiteful purpose; and going<--bad
his breast charged with a spiteful purpose: and going<--new
straight to the lodgings of Alphonse Duchatel, he
told all -- and more than all -- that he had learned
respecting the menaced alliance between the children
of Mainville and Montboeuf.

Burning with the information, the young and im-
petuous Alphonse scarcely slept that night, and in
the morning, having obtained leave of absence, rode<--bad
the morning, haying obtained leave of absence, rode<--new
swiftly to his paternal home, and, in sudden, solemn
family council, declared what he had learned of
danger to the connubial scheme that had long been
planned for his sister and the distinction of their
house.



 [[69]]
 {{gardnp070.png}} || The Advocate ||






 Chapter XI.


     "Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell."
     -- _Romeo and Juliet._

     "Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes."
     -- _Othello._


Whilst the news that Claude Montigny had given,
to a girl of dubious birth and uncertain social position,
the heart, for the possession of which the supercil-
lious Seraphine Duchatel had so long striven in vain,
was disturbing the souls of the Montboeuf Manorhouse,
the seigneur of Mainville, ill at ease, and apprehen-
sive of a hasty and irremediable matrimonial step
on the part of his son, started for Montreal again to
visit the intractable advocate.

Later in the same day, Claude also took horse, and
rode towards the banks of the Ottawa, where he ar-
rived at dusk, and crossing at the ferry from the
main to Sainte Anne, he thence, solitary, and filled
with chequered thoughts, continued his way, whilst<--bad
with checquered thoughts, continued his way, whilst<--new
the ground grew dimmer and yet dimmer, and star
after star stole out; till, as the moon rose slowly in
the glimmering air, he reached the neighbourhood of
dim Mount Royal.

At the same hour that the large bateau was heav-
ing its way over the vexed flood of the meeting
waters of the Saint Lawrence and the Ottawa, four
horsemen crossed a rustic bridge, that led from the
mainland to the opposite, or eastern extremity of the

 [[70]]
 {{gardnp071.png}} || The Advocate ||

Island of Montreal. One of the riders was of gigantic
stature, and another of diminutive proportions; and all
were clad in the coarse grey frieze suit of the country,
and wore upon their heads the common blue cap or
tuque. Pursuing their way, they kept to the least
frequented paths; endeavouring to avoid recognition;
until the coming night concealed them, and they jour-
neyed beneath the decrescent and feebly shining
moon.

And now, whilst such was transpiring at the
extremities of the Island, at Stillyside, its centre,
the curtains had been drawn, and the lighted lamp,
with its frosted glass globe, shone serene and silvery,
like a minor and domestic moon. Mona Macdonald
sat sewing near a table, whilst Amanda read aloud.
On a sofa a lazy lapdog dreamed, the parrot slept on
its swing, and the bullfinch on the perch in its cage,
and in the pauses of Amanda's voice, the drowsy cat
was heard purring in its evening doze. Nothing was
heard without, except the fitful bark of the New-
foundland dog at some stray passer by; and, at length,
even that had ceased; Mona's needle was laid aside,
the domestics, obedient to the early habits of country
life, were abed, Mona herself had now retired, and
Amanda being left alone, nothing was heard but the
measured ticking of the old clock on the corner of the
stairs. The lamp had been taken away by the
departing Mona, and in the obscurity, the moonbeams
fell in grey streaks adown the damask curtains; and
after a brief meditation on the subject of her reading,
Amanda rose, noiselessly ascended the carpeted
stairs to her room, approached the window, drew
aside the drapery, and gazed towards Mainville.

 [[71]]
 {{gardnp072.png}} || The Advocate ||

Thus had she done each night since the memorable
interview with Claude Montigny; and now not less
long did she linger there, but longer; nor thought
of retiring, till, startled at the approaching sound of
horses, she hastily re-closed the curtains; the sound
ceased, and she began slowly to undress. But her
thoughts were elsewhere; and, falling into a reverie,
she sat with her raised fingers still upon her dress,
that she was about to withdraw from before her
snowy bosom, when again she heard the sound of
hoofs on the road, and soon a shaking of reins near
the gate, and champing of the bit, mingled with the
smothered growl of the awakened Newfoundlander.
Divining the cause, and seized with trembling, she
arose, again threw aside the curtains, and beheld in
the moonlight a figure advancing up the lawn. A
moment she gazed upon the apparition; then, scarcely
knowing what she did, opened the folding window,
and half within and half without her chamber, lean-
ing forward into the night, demanded in a piercing
whisper of enquiry and alarm: "Who comes there?
Speak, is it Claude Montigny?"

"It is I, my love, for by what name shall you be
called, yet dearer, worthier than love?" responded
the subdued, yet full, clear voice of Claude. Then,
drawing nearer, he continued in an enraptured tone:

"Oh, my lady, oh, my heart, my love, my life;
my mistress now, my wife that is to be: my breath,
my soul; my hope, my happiness, my all in all; fair
presence -- but in vain my tongue seeks for the word
that shall embody you, and, like the hunted hare re-
turning to its form, so does my soul return to that
word, love. My love, then, be it, for you are my

 [[72]]
 {{gardnp073.png}} || The Advocate ||

love, you are my life henceforward; nor shall the
hereafter part us, for wherever you are there unto me
will still be heaven. Oh, my love, is it not kind of<--bad
will still he heaven. Oh, my love, is it not kind of<--new
fortune thus to call you forth? a favorable omen of
the issue of this night. Oh, come forth, my love;
come forth, and make a hallowed aisle of the ver-
andah."

"Alas!" exclaimed Amanda, stepping to the ver-
andah, "why have you ventured here again so
soon, -- or, rather, why so late? for are there not
ruffian robbers on the road, and all the secret perils
of the night?"

"No peril equals that of absence from yourself,"
said Claude, "for passion has greater perils than the
road. Cupid's arrows are more terrible to him whose
breast is bared by the absence of its mistress, than
would be at the traveller's throat the armed and
threatening hands of fifty ruthless robbers. But how
have you fared since we were so rudely parted?"

Amanda sighed. "But so so;" she murmured mourn-
fully, "it is a slight burn that does not smart a little
when the scorched part is snatched away from the
fire:" and hanging down her head bashfully, repeated,
"But so so: -- I have felt an unaccustomed care -- of
little consequence, -- but, oh, tell me, Montigny, how
your father, the proud, rich seigneur takes this matter,
for I know you would inform him of it. Is he not in-
censed, not angry; does he not upbraid you, and call
me evil, and perhaps deserved, hard names?"

"He has expostulated with me; Claude responded;
"yet not with too much earnestness, knowing love's
"fires are blown by opposition. How seems your guar-<--bad
fires are blown by opposition. How seems your guar-<--new
dian?"


 [[73]]
 {{gardnp074.png}} || The Advocate ||


"How shall I dare to meet him!" murmured
Amanda musing.

"Do not fear him;" Claude rejoined:" he will not
chide you; -- besides, you shall be gone to-morrow. I
come to-night, a Jason for the golden fleece, and may
not return without it. Stillyside is Colchis, and my
desires are dolphins that have brought me hither, and
will not, returning, ferry me across the Ottawa, unless
they shall be freighted with your form. Mine own one,
do not stand transfixed like death in life, but live
here no longer; leave it, and live with me for ever,
for from where you are my feet shall never stray.
Do not misdoubt me: though man were as faithless
as it is said that woman is fickle, yet I were loyal
towards you, whom I implore to be my affianced<--bad
towards _you_, whom I implore to be my affianced<--new
to-night, my bride to-morrow."

"To-morrow! -- Oh, so soon," exclaimed Amanda,
starting.

"It will be a thousand years till then;" interposed
Montigny;" and yet it will be the glad millenium,
since you shall reign amidst my meditations, and
towards you all my thoughts be worshipping saints.
This dumb devotion will be bliss, but to have sealed
you mine by the great sacrament of marriage will be
glory, such as the saved soul experiences when, in
Heaven sitting, it feels itself secure, and proof against
the possibility of loss. Accord me your consent.
Why do you ponder? wherefore should you hesitate?
Amanda, be immediately mine. What are your
thoughts? What are you that transports me with
impatience out of myself, to mingle with your being,
and become one with yourself in history and fate?
Our fate commands; let us obey it, since, what is fate's

 [[74]]
 {{gardnp075.png}} || The Advocate ||

behest, but Heaven's directing voice; what is our
destiny, but the deed which we perceive may not be
left undone."

"Rash man, forbear;" pronounced Amanda, her
face darkening with displeasure; "you counsel me to
evil. Though I would esteem you as I would some
annunciating angel, beyond impeachment of veracity,
and bent on a generous errand, you seem as a fallen
spirit now; tempting me, not enlightening. No,
Montigny, no. Shall I deceive my guardian so kind,
shall I defraud your house, your father, you? I,
who have no fortune, nor -- as is your lot -- upon my
name, neither the rime and hoar of silver, new
renown, nor golden rust of brown antiquity, -- the
dust of ages in heroic deeds, lying on your escutcheon,
dyeing it as the dust that dapples the bright insect's
wings; -- shall I, I say, come and lie like to a bar
sinister across it? for what else should I be con-
sidered by your indignant friends, except, indeed, a
shadow on your brightness, a shame across your
honour?" and she hung her head in despairing
sadness, whilst Montigny thus replied:

"Oh, shame on me, to hear you so self-slandered!
Friends! mistaken friends. And what although my
father and the world esteemed you my inferior; what
were their estimation unto me; and, compared with
you, what is the value of heraldic honours and
traditionary glory heaped upon the dead, which is,
in truth, too often only as the phosphorescent glim-
mer that hangs upon decay: what are these gauds
to me, who count you to be far above the worth of
monumental effigy, or marble mask, my living love;
whom I will set, -- not in the tomb of cold, pale

 [[75]]
 {{gardnp076.png}} || The Advocate ||

porphyry, nor in a sable, slabbed sarcophagus, but
breathing, and enshrined in fortune's framing gold.
Fastidious girl, and prouder than the proud Mon-
tignys, listen to me, listen. We are two stranger
vessels that have met upon the highway of the
lonely sea; -- we are as two ships that, being long
from port, have, sailing, met, and exchanged one
with the other, what each has needed and what each
could spare; we have bartered heart for heart. Have
you not given me yours? If you have not, why,
then, return me mine."

"Then were I poor indeed," replied Amanda.

"Yet I were poorer without yours," retorted
Claude, "poorer than he who begs his bread. I wish
I had to beg my bread for you, then richly should
you fare; for who, when I should crave for love of
you, (as mendicants ask alms for love of heaven),
could then refuse me? Oh, refuse no longer my
request. Estimate not my fortune, but appraise
myself; and whatsoever you may deem to be my
value, account your own worth as being ten thou-
sand times that sum. Still take me, a mere miserable
doit; an earnest, an instalment towards the payment
of the debt of love and loyalty, that shall require a
life to liquidate, then leave me bankrupt in untold
arrears."

"I should forgive the debt, even before you could
have asked forgiveness," replied Amanda, smiling,<--bad
have asked forgiveness." replied Amanda, smiling,<--new
though much moved; "and yet I would not leave
you perfectly absolved, but still retain you by some
small reminder, some power of execution over you --
not to be exercised towards you to your hurt -- far
from it, but I would be absolute that I might shew you

 [[76]]
 {{gardnp077.png}} || The Advocate ||

mercy; even as noblest kings have been despotic, and
in their day have delighted in dispensing pardon.
So would I be towards you; -- or even as the King of
Kings -- to speak it reverently -- who, of His bound-
less goodness and free grace, remits the debts and<--bad
less goodness and, free grace, remits the debts and<--new
manifold trespasses of us, his poor, defaulting
creatures."

"Go on, for it is bliss to hear you," murmured
Claude.

"Nay, I have done; -- what have I said?" she
quietly enquired of him.

"Would you unsay it?" he demanded eagerly.

"Only to say it again," she answered blushing, --
"yet I fear I have babbled strangely; -- but, remem-
ber, I was never wooed before, nor answered wooer;
so, being a novice in love's archery, it may be that
the gust of a too ardent breath has caught my words,
and from my meaning wafted them awry."

"And can a fountain yield both bitter and sweet?"
demanded Claude: "or are you as changeful as is yon
waning moon?" he asked half chidingly.

"Rather consider me to be as is the sun, that knows
no change of aspect throughout the livelong year;
or, if it vary, swells its orb in winter," she observed,
"even as I would now appear to you with fuller
favor, amidst this young acquaintance's chilly pros-
pect."

"Chilly! it is summer wherever lovers cast their
eyes, the bright Bermudas. Do not libel love, nor
our sweet fortunes," cried Claude impetuously: "For
me, there never will be winter where you are; and
why, when I am with you, should you thus seem
to shiver, as it were, in the shadow of November?"


 [[77]]
 {{gardnp078.png}} || The Advocate ||


"I am no casuist," she said, "and yet it would
appear to be too selfish in me, too much like to
fraud, should I accept all that you offer me, such
vast and personal advantage, and for which I
bring you no equivalent, no dower, no estate;
nothing to counterpoise the wide possessions that
you will inherit; -- nothing that may conciliate your
family, rich in material things and heaped with
honors, -- save my poor love; -- and what, were that?"<--bad
honors, -- save my poor love; -- and what were that?"<--new

"More than them all," ejaculated Claude, "but
why these scruples? In human hearts love is not
placed against love, as in the scales the commodity
is placed against the weight; neither is it exchanged
for land, or bartered for position; but it is always
given, and is the donor's whole, unmeasured and
immeasurable. It is infinite, growing whilst it is
being given, even as the horizon grows upon the eye
of him who travels towards it. It is because it must<--bad
of him who travels towards it. It is because _it must_<--new
be; it is unselfish; nay, unto itself it is unjust; often
giving the most where it receives the least; possess-
ing nothing, yet possessing all, if it possesses but all
its object's heart. It is towards its object as is the
encircling and cloud-breeding sea unto the verdant
island, encompassing, and in soft showers, shedding
itself over it. As the sea sheds itself in soft showers
upon the island, so do I shed my fondness, and would
shed my fortune, over you, and in return seek for
yourself, -- no more, for what more could you give,
what more could I receive, who count all else as
worthless dross. What hinders then our marriage?"

"Your father," was replied.

"He would not consent unto our nuptials though
I should pray him on my bended knees, so obstinate
and unyielding is his pride," asseverated Claude.


 [[78]]
 {{gardnp079.png}} || The Advocate ||


"My guardian, too, is proud," answered Amanda.

"Let us not wait, but wed without, and not against
their leave, then;" Montigny urged adroitly: -- "but
your guardian will consent: he has avowed as much
unto me privately; so, mark; when morning brings
the daylight to the east, be ready. Meet me beyond
these grounds; when we will hasten to the village
of Saint Laurent, and there be married. The deed
being thus achieved, none will oppose, for before the
irrevocable all rebuke is dumb."

"And so am I to this," was replied with dignity.

"Yet let me speak:" Montigny urged with despe-
rate eagerness, "let me persuade you, for to this
pass it must come; then let it come at once, since
each day will cause the path thereunto to grow more
rugged. My father's storm of threats, my mother's
deluge of tears, will make the way impassable and
past repair. You falter; your silence speaks consent;
you are convinced, and yield to the necessity for this
ungracious consummation. Good night. To-morrow
early, meet me at the church of Saint Laurent, all
shall be ready, -- pray offer no remonstrance; -- meet
me there at ten, -- the priest is my fast friend; -- nay,
do not grieve; but say good night; to-morrow you<--bad
do not grieve, but say good night; to-morrow you<--new
shall smile: -- goodnight, good night;" and kissing
his hand to her, before she could reply, the impetu-
ous lover reached the postern, and, vaulting into the
saddle, vanished.

Paralyzed with amazement and apprehension,
Amanda stood motionless and dumb. She would
have called on Claude to return, but dare not, lest
she should alarm the slumbering inmates of the
house, and she was still standing irresolute and

 [[79]]
 {{gardnp080.png}} || The Advocate ||

helpless, when something was suddenly thrown over
her face, shrouding her in darkness, and before she
could resist she was lifted from her feet, hurried
across the lawn in a diverse direction from that
taken by Claude, and on arriving on the road, swung
into a lofty saddle. A huge arm from some one seated
behind received her, passing around her waist, and
feeling like the coil of a boa-constrictor; and, amidst
the sound of several persons mounting in haste, spurs
were struck into the sides of the large animal, that
reared with a vast bound which nearly dismounted
its riders; and at once, as it seemed, a troop were
flying with her at the top of their speed along the
road. Half fainting from terror, and stifling in the
folds of some coarse envelopment, she was unable to
utter a cry for help, and the cavalcade scoured along
its way. One seemed to ride before them, and the
rest behind. No one spoke, but her companion on the
crupper grasped her tightly, like a relentless fate, and
onwards they still bounded, and the deeply spurred
steeds in agony of exertion stretched themselves to
the task, and still they flew, and still Amanda strove
to recover her voice; till as the dumb, in some
moment of mortal terror, are said to have found speech,
she, with accents, that, bursting through the thick veil,
rung amidst the night, shrieked out the name of
Claude Montigny. A low, chuckling laugh arose
around her, followed by a curse, and a hoarse threat
of violence from the figure that rode on the crupper,
who at the same time again dug spurs into the
flanks of the courser, that once more, with its huge,
responding bound nearly dismounted its riders; and
prompted as it seemed by fear of a rescue, the rate

 [[80]]
 {{gardnp080a.png}} || The Advocate ||

 [Illustration: "The party tore along the road,
 shaking it as the prairie shakes when it is swept
 over by a herd of buffaloes."]

 [[80a]]
 {{gardnp080b.png}} || The Advocate ||

 [illustration-backside]

 [[80b]]
 {{gardnp081.png}} || The Advocate ||

accelerated till the troop was scouring over the ground
with the flight of a tempest. Confused with terror,
and alarmed at the threats of her powerful keeper,
she remained silent, unable to divine in what direction
they were hurrying; but felt that her captor and
custodian kept looking behind, as if afraid of some one
in pursuit; and the killing pace appeared to rise yet
higher, and the animals to quiver in quick bounds like
mortal throes, as the spurs were plied up to the rowels,
and the creatures seemed to swallow the ground, until
again over all burst, as might the shriek of an imprisoned<--bad
again overall burst, as might the shriek of an imprisoned<--new
gnome, from beneath her envelopement, the cry of
Amanda calling upon the name of Claude Montigny.

"Forward! faster, yet faster!" cried a voice in rage
and apprehension; and with renewed application of
whip and spur, the party tore along the road, shaking
it as the prairie is shaken when it is swept over by a
herd of buffaloes.

"Claude, Claude!" she again shrieked, and now in
addition to the thick cowl, a huge hand was placed
upon her mouth, a threat of instant death came from
the terrible voice behind her, the grip tightened round
her form, and, making her darkness yet darker, at
that moment the clouds, that had been lately gathering,
covered the moon. Soon the way divided before them.
To the left it meandered half hidden with trees, to
the right it loomed straight and open, leading to
Montreal, and the motion of the horses, now abreast
and flinging foam from their bits, seemed like the
tossing of the boiling rapids, and amidst the thunder
of the hoofs the hoarse voice of him who rode behind
her, hissing with earnestness and fear like an excited
Python, exclaimed:


 [[81]]
 {{gardnp082.png}} || The Advocate ||


"Brother, and you, master Imp, make for the city;
away!" And soon, from the diminished sound, she knew
that they had parted company with a portion of her
convoy. She could hear, too, that the remaining
horseman of the four, for that had been the number,
had now fallen into the rear, and, soon, she thought
she heard through her mufflings a voice crying as if
commanding them to stay; and again she heard it, but
it had grown fainter, and wider from the track they
were pursuing, and now nothing was heard but the
sound of their impetuous course through the wood.
This was soon cleared, when their speed seemed to
relax, and the hard breathing of the overstrained
beasts, proclaimed how much the chase had told upon
them; and at last the veil was slightly raised, a large,
coarse visage peered under it, and the hoarse voice
enquired mockingly: "How fares my bird? We will
let a little light into its cage, if it will promise to
sing no more. What says my hooded crow?" and a
titanic and convulsive hug followed, causing her to
shrink with pain, and revolt in disgust and horror;
feelings which changed to mortal apprehension, when
the same lascivious looking ruffian bade his now sole
male companion ride on before. The latter made no
answer, but dashed up alongside, and gazed into the
face of Amanda as he passed, with an air of curiosity
mingled with admiration and respect. There was in
him a likeness to the sinistrous countenanced ogre
behind her; yet he was a rather handsome young
fellow; and as the wind, caused by their rapid course,
blew backward his long, curly hair, he exhibited a
cast of honesty and openness in his aspect. The other
seemed to be impatient at his lingering, and growled:

 [[82]]
 {{gardnp083.png}} || The Advocate ||

"Don't hang glowering here; forwards, and warn me
if any one approaches, that I, may cover up this toy."<--bad
if any one approaches, that I may cover up this toy."<--new
And whilst the monster readjusted the cowl to the
face of Amanda, his comrade again pricked the panting
sides of his own horse, that being lightlier laden than
its fellow, easily shot ahead. And thus they swept
along the road, whilst the rising breeze still drove
the clouds over the face of the moon, and the race
seemed to have its fantastic counterpart in the wrack
of the sky. And now they silently journeyed, avoiding
village and hamlet, by making wide detours; but, in
spite of their precautions, arousing the bark of many
a solitary cur, as they swept by each homestead like
an apparition. Even these incidents, and possible
chances for her rescue at length ceased, and the des-
pairing Amanda, too proud to vainly beg for her
release from her stubborn captors, drew the hood
again over her face, and in the double darkness called
upon Heaven to be her protector and deliverer. That
Claude had heard her cries she felt assured; that he
had pursued a portion of her abductors towards Mont-
real, and would continue his efforts, with those of her
guardian and the inmates of Stillyside, to find and
recover her she did not doubt; but in the meantime
what might she not have to endure? And shrinking
from the contemplation of the uncertain gulf before
her, she was at length recalled to a sense of
external things, by a sudden change of sound, from
that of the clatter of the horses' hoofs on the hard
road, to one like the roll of a distant peal of thunder,
and telling her they were crossing a rude wooden
bridge, that led from the Island to the main. Then
for the first time the riders permanently abated their

 [[83]]
 {{gardnp084.png}} || The Advocate ||

speed, and their prisoner enquired of them whither
they were carrying her.

"Never mind that, my pretty passenger pigeon,"
replied the elder with a ghoul-like grin; "you will
not require to find your way back this year." And<--bad
not require to find your way hack this year." And<--new
the foaming, exhausted animals, relieved from the
trying gallop, dropped into a feeble trot or lazy canter,
whilst Amanda gazed wistfully around to discover<--bad
whilst Amanda gazed wistfully around to discover,<--new
some glimpse of dawn. No certain sign of it, how-
ever, could she perceive on the circle of the horizon,
though all around there showed the whitened eaves
of the roof of gloomy clouds. Her companions, too,
casting jealous glances at each other in the obscurity,
had become more mutually taciturn; and the wind,
that during the previous part of their flight had risen,
as if to be in keeping with the current violence, had
now fallen to a calm; and, proceeding thus, she con-
tinued to tell the terrors of her situation, as they alter-
nately glided through the gloom of the clearing, or
plunged into the denser darkness of the forest; till at
last she was startled by something leaping against her
feet, followed by the pleased but stifled barking of a
huge hound close by her, and at the same instant she
saw a woman bearing a lighted candle in her hand,
emerge from a hovel on the road side. The next
moment the party were halted before it, and the
woman, holding up her light, shed its beams upon the
face and form of Amanda, whose arrival she seemed
to have been expecting; and after having fixed her
eyes searchingly upon her, turned them with a
familiar and significant look on the still seated ruffian.
The light illuminated her own countenance as much
as that of Amanda, who, repelled by her manners

 [[84]]
 {{gardnp085.png}} || The Advocate ||

and appearance, sat motionless, and checked the
appeal that was rising to her lips. The redoubtable
rider dismounted awkwardly from behind her, half
dragged her from the tall beast, and hurried her
into the house. The woman followed, and having
closed the door, placed the candle on a table, and sat
down by the fire; when Amanda, still standing in
the midst of the miserable room, began:

"Woman, what place is this? Where am I, and
why have I been brought hither?" then bursting
into passionate grief: "Oh, woman, woman, who-
soever you are, save me, I implore you, from this
man," and with the words she sprang towards<--bad
man," find with the words she sprang towards<--new
the door; but the churlish giant, guessing her
intention, intercepted, and bore her back, saying:<--bad
intention, intercepted, and bore her back, saying<--new
"Keep quiet, gentle lady; have patience, bashful<--bad
"Keep quiet, gentle lady; have patience, bashful,<--new
beauty; sit down, sit down; come pet, come." And
he made as if to approach her; when, forgetting
the hazard of her position, and inspired with return-
ing native courage, with her heart swelling with
womanly indignation, and looking the vast figure in
the face, she cried with an utterance tremulous from
grief and scorn: "Whither have you brought me,
villain, and for what end? Sirrah, come no nearer
me: I am polluted by your touch. Out, shameless
wretch!" and again she rushed towards the door, but
found it resist her utmost efforts: and, baffled, turning
within, she once more addressed herself to the female,
who was now carelessly warming herself before some
embers on the hearth.

"Woman," she said, "for that you are one your
form and garb assure me, though your behaviour gives
your exterior the lie; woman, if you be one, save

 [[85]]
 {{gardnp086.png}} || The Advocate ||

me. Charge this man -- for you have influence with
him -- to liberate me; oh! charge him to release me.
Turn me into the lane, into the field, or where you
will; but let me leave this house without delay,"<--bad
will; but let me leave this house without delay."<--new

The female, with a grim smile, bade her recompose
herself; whilst the burly brute doggedly hinted to
her that she would' have to remain some time in<--bad
her that she would have to remain some time in<--new
those parts, and might as well sit down and be con-
tent. Perplexed at this second announcement of her
intended restriction, Amanda stood mute in fear
and horror. To arouse the creature in whose power
she was might be immediately dangerous, but, for a
moment, to seem resigned to her abduction was im-
possible. Trembling with dismay and sickening
with apprehension, her limbs would scarcely sustain
her; and as she mentally revolved, looking wistfully
around, as if to spy any nook or cranny for escape,
she at last exclaimed:

"Again, I ask, why am I brought hither? Outlaw,
who are you? wherein have I wronged you, that
you should drag me to I know not where? What
place is this, and why have you come with men as
heartless as yourself, stealing me from my home to
bring me hither, and cast me into this den?" and
her bosom filled as she ended; but her hearer, know-
ing no compunction, only answered with a sneer:
"To clip your wings, madam," then gave a low
laugh, as if of self-applause at his quickness of rep-
artee, or the prospect of her humiliation, and added:
"Pray, miss, retire; you have not been abed to-night,
and watching is not good for English ladies' eyes."

"Shameless!" she cried, looking upon him with
unmitigable disdain, "how dare you hint at rest

 [[86]]
 {{gardnp087.png}} || The Advocate ||

within these walls? Return me to the spot whence
you have taken me; render me to my home, so
desecrated, so invaded by such felonious feet as yours.
Felon, convey me to my home at Stillyside, and there
reinstate me; if indeed you have the heart, as you
have the outward semblance, of a man;" and, in spite
of her resentment, she burst into a flood of tears.

But not even woman's tears could move his stolid
disposition, or melt his stony heart; and, looking at her
with an expression akin to contempt, he demanded:

"What, take the bird back to the bush where we
have caught it? No. Besides at present you have<--bad
have caught it? No, Besides at present you have<--new
taken a long-enough ride, and when next you journey
it must be further in the same direction. You shall
see the world, and learn how wide it is; you shall
have most excellent French society."

"Oh, keep me, heaven, from such society as yours,"
she ejaculated: -- "base man! -- but do you know to
what you have exposed yourself? Beware; I am
not without friends both subtle and strong, and one
of whom will not be slow to punish you for this out-
rage. Release me, stranger, or you shall be visited
with his vengeance, not to be trifled with, not to be
risked with safety."

"Ah, the old advocate," exclaimed the giant, with
more bitterness than he had hitherto manifested;
"Outrage! he has himself outraged too many of our
race."

"Ay, that he has;" the woman chimed in, whilst
her eyes suddenly glared dilating, and she looked
menacingly at Amanda; "there is Robitaille, and
Lamoureux, and Faille, and myself, and Babet Blais, --<--bad
Lamoureux, and Paille, and myself, and Babet Blais, --<--new
poor Babet! but her boy, _his_ boy, his own son, has

 [[87]]
 {{gardnp088.png}} || The Advocate ||

paid him down with sorrow, he has punished him; --<--bad
paid him down with sorrow, _he_ has punished him; --<--new
ha! ha!" and both she and her Gorgon-like guest
laughed a meaning and triumphant laugh, whilst
Amanda yet stood there to be baited by the brutish
man and the lost, revengeful woman, the latter of
whom thus continued to vent her spleen: "Mistress,
what are you but an English interloper? Girl, how
can we endure you? Do you not despise us? Do you
not insult, despoil, dishonor us? Do you not covet
our lands, do you not reap the taxes, take the trade?
Would you not all be Seigneurs? What shall we
give you that you have not already taken! Ah, out
upon you, my young mistress! Think it well if you
should not receive what I shall not now name to
you, -- your guardian's gift to many a maiden -- and
worse;" she added between her teeth; "death,
death," and turned away scowling.

"Return me to my home, or worse than death
awaits you;" cried Amanda; "endless infamy; hated
of our race, despised of yours, disowned by both."

But the woman by this time had begun to busy
herself in piling new logs upon the fire, and the colos-
sus, her companion, after having scanned the apart-
ment, seemingly to ascertain whether it was to be
trusted to retain the prisoner, at length, satisfied
with the result of his scrutiny, unlocked the door
with the key which he drew from his pocket, and
bestowing a bow of mock respect upon Amanda, who
affected not to perceive it, departed; and she, without
vouchsafing a look upon her feminine but callous
jailor, sank upon a chair in silence.



 [[88]]
 {{gardnp089.png}} || The Advocate ||






 Chapter XII.


     "Ring the alarm bell."
     -- _Macbeth._


The abductors, of Amanda were no other than the<--bad
The abductors of Amanda were no other than the<--new
three sons of Andre Duchatel, along with the vin-
dictive Narcisse acting as their guide. He and
Alphonse Duchatel, at the branching of the road, had
parted company with the others, and so drawn upon
themselves the pursuer, Claude Montigny, who being
magnificently mounted gained fast upon them, till
fearing to be overtaken they leaped from their horses,
and taking to their heels concealed themselves amongst<--bad
and taking to their heels concealed, themselves amongst<--new
the trees that covered the side of the mountain, and
where no rider could follow. Claude then saw that he
had been the dupe of a stratagem; and after galloping
across the country, struck the road that he had been
decoyed from following; then urging his horse in the'<--bad
decoyed from following; then urging his horse in the<--new
direction which he supposed the principal abductors
had pursued, he at length in despair left it, and again
clearing fence and brook, held his course towards the
city of Montreal, where he arrived betwixt midnight
and dawn, and with the butt of his riding-whip
knocked at the advocate's door.

The old man was dreaming of the apparently fair
fortune of Amanda; of the ingenuous Claude, and of
his father, the importunate and imperious Seigneur,
when the clang rung through the mansion, and rudely
dispelled his visions. At first he was doubtful as to

 [[89]]
 {{gardnp090.png}} || The Advocate ||

the reality of the alarm, and was dropping again to
sleep, when once more the riding-whip sent the
startling summons, and leaping from his bed, he threw
open the window, and putting his head out, gruffly-
 demanded, who was there.

"Claude Montigny," was answered from beneath.

"And what wants Claude Montigny at this hour?"
asked the advocate, who now perceived the figures
of steed and dismounted rider beneath him in the
obscurity.

"Dress instantly, and quick come down," was the
reply. The window closed, and in a few minutes the
advocate, with his morning gown thrown over him,
opened the door.

"Why how is this?" he demanded in astonishment,
as he beheld Claude on the foot walk, whip in one hand,<--bad
as he beheld Claude on the footwalk, whip in one hand,<--new
and with the other holding his horse by the bridle.

Claude stood silent.

"How is this?" reiterated the advocate: "Out
with it, man. Is your father wild? does he threaten
to disinherit you?"

"Not that, but worse:" Claude answered; "worse<--bad
"Not that, but worse:" Claude answered "worse<--new
than your worst suspicions, and it may be worse than
the death of one you much regard."

"Has any thing evil happened to my ward?" asked
the advocate, exhibiting alarm. "Why do you pause?
Inform me quickly."

"Too quickly, perhaps, I shall inform you," replied
Claude, deprecatingly. "Something evil has happened
to your ward. Arm yourself now with firmness, and
be calm; be cool in judgment, prompt in execution;
you who can counsel others, how prepare to be the<--bad
you who can counsel others, now prepare to be the<--new
best counsellor to yourself."


 [[90]]
 {{gardnp091.png}} || The Advocate ||


"What act shall follow this preamble?" said the
lawyer, raising his thick, white, shaggy eyebrows in
enquiring wonder: "Go on, go on;" he commanded
in a short, gasping utterance; "declare the pains and
penalties. She lives? Amanda lives? Has she
proved false? You have not lost her?"

"Lost her! oh!" exclaimed Claude, unable to curb
his emotion.

"Nay, confess it; announce the worst; the broadest
misfortune; my ears are open for it," pursued the
other.

"But I have no heart, no tongue to fill them with
my dire news," Claude stammered, and the advocate
resumed, growing impatient:

"Of my ward what can you tell me that is untoward?
Of myself say anything: foretell disaster, prophecy
my death; -- but what of her? -- you say she lives?"

"She does."

"Is well?"

Claude shook his head, and remained silent.

"Sir, let your lips pronounce my doom at once,"
said the advocate, striving to be calm, yet alarmed
and irritated; "Proceed: -- I am ashamed to say it, but
I tremble. What has befallen my ward, what trouble
has alighted on my child? -- for so I call her. Claude
Montigny, what is it brings you here betwixt night
and day, with tidings that you falter to deliver?"

"Calm yourself;" counselled Claude in a warning
tone.

"I will;" answered the advocate; "I do; -- resolve
me quickly."

"I fear to do so," Montigny uttered pathetically,
as if his resolution had suddenly given way.


 [[91]]
 {{gardnp092.png}} || The Advocate ||


"Let me hear it, torture me no longer:" cried the
advocate imperatively: "Perfect knowledge, perhaps,
may stun me; but far worse to bear than were a shower
of vitriol poured on a green wound, are these distilled,
dire drops of apprehension. Sir, are you guilty that
you thus stand dumb? What have you done inju-
rious towards my ward, that you so linger upon the
street, and to my queries but gaze like one demented?
Sir, I charge you, tell me without more reserve or
hesitation, lest at last I listen to you with less of fear
than of anger. You have been"<--bad
than of anger. You have been--"<--new

"The innocent accessory, I fear, to others' villany,"
Claude interrupted; "still, hear me," he continued,
"and forgive me if I bring you tidings that shall
hang as heavy on your soul as lead; yet have given
me the leaden bullet's swiftness, or that of the
blast, to waft them hither, blasting, to yourself. --
Sir, you have been robbed, bereaved; the star of
Stillyside is set, -- or, worse, plucked from its firma-
ment; my life, my lady, oh, my new-made love, your
peerless ward is stolen."

"Stolen!" the advocate echoed.

"Stolen; even from my very arms is plucked,"
continued Claude.

"Ill-freighted messenger," groaned the old lawyer;
"stolen! oh, Montigny, you have stolen half the
strength from these old limbs, and strained the
sinews that have never bent before, neither to man
nor to misfortune. Stolen! How stolen? It is false;
you jest, you mean that you yourself have stolen
her, -- have stolen her heart; you know I lately
caught you in the act; -- but, for her person, she
would not, could not, give it you without my leave.

 [[92]]
 {{gardnp093.png}} || The Advocate ||

Montigny, you have not stolen together to the
church? -- but this is in the street; come in."

Claude tied his courser to a young maple that grew
near the door; and, whilst he was doing so, the
advocate retired within, murmuring: "Montigny,
Seigneur Montigny, this is your work, and yet may
prove the dearest piece of petty larceny that ever
man committed; as dear as would have been to have
furnished the dower you refused me. No;" he con-
tinued musing, "trouble does not spring from out of
the ground. Then whence comes this? Who hates
me?" he continued sharply; "Covets her? Whom
would her absence serve? who, except the father of
yon boy, the Sieur Montigny?" and he had scarcely<--bad
you boy, the Sieur Montigny?" and he had scarcely<--new
finished his soliloquy when he was rejoined by Claude,
who, straightway in the obscurity of the library,
related to him the adventure of the night.

The old man listened in silence, but his bosom
heaved, and when Claude had ceased, he grasped
him by the hand and exclaimed:

"Montigny, we are bound together in that girl,<--bad
Montigny, we are bound together in that girl,<--new
the outrage upon whom has made us rivals in the
task to find and rescue her. Yet are you sure the
voice you heard was her's? You did not see her
carried off; you only heard, or thought you heard,
her cry. You may have been deceived. Hasten back
to Stillyside. She may be there now sleeping be-
tween the unruffled sheets, making them sweeter
than the perfuming lavender; -- if she be not -- why
then -- alas! what then?" And he struck his palm
against his brow, holding it there, perplexed, revolving.

"You say you heard your name pronounced?" he
enquired at length.


 [[93]]
 {{gardnp094.png}} || The Advocate ||


"I did," said Claude, unhesitatingly; and this
seemed to satisfy the lawyer's doubts, and, rising,
he said, shaking his companion by the hand: "Mon-
tigny, go. Beat up the bush at Stillyside; and if
she be not there, -- why all the country side shall be
roused to find and bring her back. But, Claude, she
is safe. Yet hie you thither; mount again your
horse, and bring me word before the day breaks:
begone." And in a few moments Claude was scour-
ing back to Stillyside, and the advocate ruminating
alone amidst the shadows of his library.



 [[94]]
 {{gardnp095.png}} || The Advocate ||






 Chapter XIII.


     "This noble gentleman, Lord Titas here,
     Is in opinion, and in honor, wronged;
     That in the rescue of Lavinia,
     With his own hand did slay his youngest son"
     -- _Titus Andronicus._


The elder Montigny, wrathful and irresolute, and
like a beast in the toils, had yesterday again visited
the advocate on the same errand as before, and with
a like unsatisfactory result. But instead of return-
ing to Mainville he had proceeded to the Duchatel
Manor House; partly for counsel, but chiefly to as-
certain whether its owner -- who, he deemed, had an
equal interest with himself in the removal of Amanda
-- would join with him in furnishing the demanded
dower. The subject was broached privately to the
shrewd and worldly Andre, who on hearing it pro-
pounded swore indignantly at the advocate's audacity,
and roundly refused to accede to any such appropria-
tion of his substance: so after fierce denunciations of
the insolence of upstart English adventurers, and
censure of the infatuation of young fellows in affairs
of the heart, the theme was dropped for the present,
and the remainder of the day spent in looking over
the estate, and in those attentions that are usually
bestowed on a visitor, be he ever so familiar a one,
much more when he is both distinguished and in
prospective relationship. The next day the topic
was resumed, but this time in the presence of Samson

 [[95]]
 {{gardnp096.png}} || The Advocate ||

Duchatel, as he sat yawning between asleep and
awake, but who, on hearing the conversation, aroused
himself, and bade Montigny be easy, and not dream
of endowing the foreigner, since he, Samson, had
already secured the troublesome fair one. Montigny
took little notice of this, thinking it to be but the
jest or boast, or, at furthest, merely the loose an-<--bad
jest or toast, or, at furthest, merely the loose an-<--new
nouncement of the intention of the unscrupulous
giant; who soon afterwards invited him to walk
abroad. The company of Samson was not coveted
by the more refined and anxious Seigneur, but the
former pressed him, and he thought that locomotion
might divert his mind from the contemplation of the
coming degradation and folly of his son. He con-
sented, and issuing from the ancient and flower-
festooned porch of the Manor House, they walked
along in mid-morning of late September, the drowsy
charms of the summer's faded foliage just awakening
to a resurrection in the glorified beauty of Autumn;
and, almost in silence, they proceeded along the road
or lane, till they came to the dubious dwelling where,
some hours before, Amanda was left a prisoner. The<--bad
some hours before. Amanda was left a prisoner. The<--new
sullen and sloven-looking female who had received
her was now dressed in gaudy attire, and saluted them
as they entered, at the same time casting a look of
enquiry and surprise into the face of Samson, and of
suspicion on the Seigneur.

"Bring up the body of your prisoner;" growled
the former, loudly, as he threw his huge frame into
an arm-chair. "Come, habeas corpus, habeas corpus.
Now, if we had Alphonse here," he continued, "he
could repeat the whole writ in Latin. Habeas
corpus, habeas corpus," muttered the puzzled savage,

 [[96]]
 {{gardnp097.png}} || The Advocate ||

fumbling in his brains for the context, "habeas cor-
pus, habeas corpus; -- "then, relinquishing the vain
search, and addressing himself to the woman, at the<--bad
search, and addressing himself to he woman, at the<--new
same time elevating his voice, he vociferated: "Hillo,
come, lady sheriff, bring up the body of your prisoner,
I say;" when, as if in obedience to the call of a
magician, a door opened, and from an inner room,
with face flushed, brow dark and fretted with indig-
nation, lips pouting, breast heaving, and her eyes
overflowing with tears, in bounded his sister, Sera-
phine Duchatel, exclaiming: "And is this the crea-
ture that has stood between me and Claude? and
brought here, too, to flout me to my face! I'll not
endure it;" and she burst into a fresh torrent of
tears.

"Who has stood between you, girl?" enquired the
brother, half teasingly, half tenderly: "if there be
a stump between here and Mainville that hinders
you from driving your carriage thither, tell me, and
we'll pull it up as quickly as Doctor Lanctot would
pull you a tooth out."

"You have done well, indeed," continued the angry
girl, weeping, and not minding his clumsy badinage,
"you have done well indeed, to bring her here to
answer me, to scorn me, to defy me, to parade herself
before me, to stand in my presence as proud as any
peacock, -- only not half so beautiful."

"Fine feathers make fine birds, Phin," drily
retorted her brother.

"She is not fine, and if she be, she shall be plucked
of her finery;" exclaimed the sister: "I'll tear her
eyes out; what business has she to look at me, and<--bad
eyes out; what business has she to look at _me_, and<--new
speak so insolently? I'll have her face flayed; her

 [[97]]
 {{gardnp098.png}} || The Advocate ||

hair shall be plucked up by the roots;" and she<--bad
hair, shall be plucked up by the roots;" and she<--new
stamped with her little foot.

"We'll have her scalped, girl!" condoled her bro-
ther.

"Yes, this is the way you always think to manage
me; by laughing at me," cried the spoiled child, in
renewed agony of tears.

"Why, what is the matter?" demanded the Sei-
gneur, wondering, and startled by these threatening
allusions: "What is the meaning of all this, Samson?"

"Oh," answered the latter, striving to perpetrate
a pun, "Only that we have brought Phin a hand-
maiden, and she finds her handsomer than is agree-
able; -- but there is many a servant comelier than the
mistress."

"Let me behold this Paragon," said the Seigneur,
at the same time rising, and moving towards the
door of the inner room, that had been left ajar by the
rude Seraphine, in her indignant exit. Pushing it
slowly open, he beheld Amanda, with half-averted
form, seated upon a chair, her head bowed, but her
face wearing an expression of proud serenity mixed
with grief. His first impulse was to retire; but
pity, respect, admiration, and even awe, bound him
to the spot, and he remained gazing till curiosity and
commiseration alike combined to induce him to
address a figure so incongruous with that mean place,
and whose majestic sorrow seemed too sacred for
interruption.

"Young lady, by your leave; pray pardon me;
but can a stranger be of service to you?" he at length
enquired.

Amanda looked upward. "Oh, if you are, as you

 [[98]]
 {{gardnp099.png}} || The Advocate ||

seem to be, a gentleman, do not leave me;" she ex-
claimed beseechingly, as she slowly rose and ap-
proached him: "do not leave me, but convey me
back to Stillyside, from whence I have been stolen
by that man. Oh, sir, you do not know with what
a load of thanks its owner will repay you, should
you rescue me from this base durance."

The seigneur looked enquiringly at Samson, but
the latter seemed more disposed to wait to see how
the seigneur regarded the appeal, than to reply to the
tacit question.

"Why have you been brought hither, and against
your will?" resumed the seigneur, respectfully.

"I am as yet ignorant of the cause;" she answered:
"I do not know, I cannot divine, why I am here a
prisoner."

"She does know;" fiercely interrupted the sobbing
Seraphine, "She does, she does," she reiterated, and
seemed disposed to fly at her tooth and nail. "She
knows she is a bold and wicked creature, -- she, she,
she; she is a, a, -- I dont know what she is;" she
cried, spurting out the last words in a paroxysm of
sorrow and vexation, and flung herself into a chair
sobbing hysterically, with toilet and temper alike
disordered.

"Calm yourself, Seraphine," said the Seigneur.

"Yes, calm thyself, girl," echoed the ponderous
Samson. "Why, what a wild duck thou art, sister,
flapping and quacking because an unshotted barrel
has been fired at thee. She is an unshotted gun, she
has no name; and what is a thing without a name?
nothing: for if it were something it would have been
called something. What thing is there -- that is a

 [[99]]
 {{gardnp100.png}} || The Advocate ||

thing -- that has not got what a pudding has? a name,"
and he laughed till his sides shook, and drawing a
pouch from his pocket, took thence a quid of tobacco,
and put it into his cheek, at the same time playfully
offering another to the outraged Seraphine, who petu-
lently dashed it from his fingers, and affected to bridle
at the insult.

Meantime Amanda stood in silent sadness, and the
Seigneur, who had been watching her during the
heartless flirtation between the brother and sister,
advanced one pace into the room, and said: "I know
your story, and have reason to be angry, not so much
with you as with my son, whom, I believe, you are
acquainted with, one Claude Montigny." Amanda
turned away her face and blushed.

"You do know him I perceive," the Seigneur con-
tinued, "and if by chance he has happened to know
you I do not blame him, much less can I blame your-
self: but, lady, remember," and the proud Montigny
advanced, and bending over her whilst his voice fell,<--bad
advanced and bending over her whilst his voice fell,<--new
as if it were intended for her ear alone, said "remem-
ber, we are not all of the same degree, though Heaven
has fashioned all of the same clay. The proudest and
the wealthiest in Canada might hail you as a daughter;
but old prescription, antecedents, prospects, all com-
bine to render impossible your union with my son."

Amanda blushed yet deeper, and both of them
stood for awhile embarrassed, but at length she said
falteringly, and glowing like a crimson poppy in her
confusion:

"I own it just that you should urge these' large<--bad
"I own it just that you should urge these large<--new
considerations; yet, believe me, sir, I have been pas-
sive in this matter, and have not sought your son's

 [[100]]
 {{gardnp100a.png}} || The Advocate ||

 [Illustration: "Meantime Amanda stood in silent sadness,
 and the Seigneur advanced one pace into the room."]

 [[100a]]
 {{gardnp100b.png}} || The Advocate ||

 [illustration-backside]

 [[100b]]
 {{gardnp101.png}} || The Advocate ||

acquaintance; neither, indeed, has he, if he be rightly
judged, (and you would not wrong your son), per-
haps, sought mine; for it would seem there are amities
that Providence provides for us, without our will or
knowledge. It was accident that brought us face to
face; as we observe the sun and moon -- that are
separate in their seasons, and withal so different in
their glory's given degree -- brought monthly, and as
if fortuitously, though, in reality, by eternal, fixed
design, into conjunctive presence amidst the sky.

Yet who shall blame the sun and moon for that?

"None," said the Seigneur.

"Then let no one blame your son and me," con-
tinued Amanda, "if Heaven, perhaps to try us, has
ordained that our paths should cross each other, as
might two strange and diverse celestial bodies pass
apparently too hazardously near each other in their
appointed orbits. For the rest, forgive me, sir, and
may He who best knows what is for the benefit of
his creatures, and who sometimes for their good, sees
it right that they should suffer wrongfully, assist me.
Since this has pleased Him, I bow, and bear it the
best I may, and trust too, that He will, in His good
pleasure, deliver me from this that He has permitted
to fall upon me, my present sad and dangerous estate
of a poor prisoner here."

"Heaven will indeed rescue you from this infamous
restraint, and I will gladly be its minister," returned
the Seigneur, melted almost to love with pity, and
dropping a tear; "none shall detain you here; you
are safe. Let me, myself -- if thereby to some extent
may be atoned to you the wrong you have sustained in
being hurried hither -- conduct you to your guardian."


 [[101]]
 {{gardnp102.png}} || The Advocate ||


"And raise the devil! -- ay, and bring him here:
her guardian is his half brother," suddenly roared
Samson in surprise and terror. "No, Montigny, she<--bad
Samson in surprise and terror. "No. Montigny, she<--new
has given too much trouble in the catching to be so
lightly released. Besides, is she to be still allowed to
stand between her betters. Leave her with me."

"Yes, leave her with Samson," cried the sulking
Seraphine, starting up in her chair. "He has known
better girls, and handsomer, too; -- umph! how much
men can be mistaken. It is wonderful that Claude
should covet her. Take her to her guardian! fie,
Monsieur Montigny," and half turning away in her
seat with scorn and disgust, she cast a look of ineffable
hatred and disdain at the suppliant Amanda, whilst
the woman of the house fixed her jealousy-filled eyes
on Samson as he murmurred: "She shall not go:
she is my prisoner."

"She must return with me, sir, said the Seigneur,
quietly but firmly. "Are you not aware how great is
the penalty that you have incurred by this disgraceful
scandal? Think it fortunate if you shall be able in
any way to compound for it with the lady's guardian.
Seraphine, mollify your indignation towards one who
has not meant to thwart you. Return to the hall
with your brother, whilst I conduct this injured lady
to the parsonage, to remain there until I can escort
her home, and (as I hope) with the aid of her interces-
sion, obtain the pardon of her cruel abductors."

"It is you that is cruel:" cried the weeping Sera-
phine: "it is Claude that is cruel. Not meant to
thwart me! she has thwarted me, and you encourage<--bad
thwart me! she _has_ thwarted me, and you encourage<--new
her, you justify her, Monsieur Montigny."

"We will crucify her," cried Samson.


 [[102]]
 {{gardnp103.png}} || The Advocate ||


"Say no more," commanded the seigneur: "you
are both of you ignorant of the heinous nature of
what you have done. Her guardian has the power<--bad
what you have done. "Her guardian has the power<--new
to punish you. Tremble lest he should exercise it."
And, with these words, he gave his arm to Amanda,
and, passing amidst the scowling trio, led her from
the place.



 [[103]]
 {{gardnp104.png}} || The Advocate ||






 Chapter XIV.


     "Confess the truth."
     -- _Measure for Measure._

     "You would pluck out the heart of my mystery."
     -- _Hamlet._


Claude Montigny rode to Stillyside and back, and
was again with the advocate within the hour. To
conceive the terror and outcry in that quiet dwelling,
when its inmates ascertained that Amanda was miss-
ing, let the reader recall the commotion in the castle
of Macbeth, when on the morning following his fatal
entrance beneath its battlements, it is discovered
that the royal Duncan has been murdered. As
vehement and as wild as when the distracted Macduff,
in frantic tones and with wringing hands, declares
to the assembling sons and thanes of the ill-starred
monarch, that, "confusion now has made its master-
piece, most sacrilegeous murder has broken open the
Lord's anointed temple, and stolen hence the life
o' the building," was the outcry and disorder on the
discovery of Amanda's absence; and the wail and
lamentation rung in Claude's ear as he rode away
from the gate to return to Montreal, where, still
pacing the library, the advocate anxiously awaited
him. By the ratiocination, as well as by the intui-
tion, of the old man, the seigneur of Mainville was
reasonably to be suspected of being at least an acces-
sory to the stealing of Amanda. Claude, too, was
not unvisited by suspicions of his father's complicity;

 [[104]]
 {{gardnp105.png}} || The Advocate ||

but thrust the dishonoring doubts from him, as might
a suffering saint dismiss hard thoughts of the dealings
of Providence towards himself. Each thought more
than he expressed to the other, but at length the
advocate communicated to Claude his injurious suspi-
cions, acquainting him with the fact and nature of
his father's visits to his office; when Claude, in turn,
informed the advocate of the long cherished project
of an alliance between the houses of Duchatel and
Montigny. This information not only confirmed,
but widened the field of the advocate's fears. He
was aware also of the lawless character of Duchatel's
sons; and recollected to have heard that the youngest
was a comrade of Narcisse, who, he likewise knew,'<--bad
was a comrade of Narcisse, who, he likewise knew,<--new
entertained a covert spite against Amanda, and, for
his mother's sake, a rankling dislike of Mona Mac-
donald. Against both of these his umbrage might
be supposed to have been heated by his recent ignom-
inious expulsion from Stillyside; and to gratify this
resentment he might now be executing some scheme
of revenge, wherein, from his intimacy with the
young Duchatel, he could know that that family had
cause to be ready to assist him. Here was a clue to
the recovery of his ward: -- in legal parlance, here
was a prima facie case; and it but remained to find
and prosecute the criminals. To seize his son, and,
by threats or promises, extract a confession from him
was the first idea. But where was the errant and
suspected Narcisse to be found? His father knew
he was absent, so the mother was summoned. She
came, but advanced no further than the threshold of
the room, and fell a trembling with fear, behaviour
that she would fain have dissembled to be from cold,

 [[105]]
 {{gardnp106.png}} || The Advocate ||

for, with the divination with which guilt endows its
subject, she at once knew that the stranger was the
young Montigny, and herself had been cited in order
to suffer a searching cross-examination,<--bad
to suffer a searching cross-examination.<--new

"Woman," said the advocate sternly, and wheeling
his arm-chair round so as to face her, "Woman, where
is your son?"

"Helas!" she exclaimed, and shrugged her shoulders,
as much as to say, "I don't know where he is;" and
smiled a rueful smile.

"No grinning now," cried the lawyer, raising his
finger and shaking it at her, and frowning as he was
wont to do when he wished to intimidate a witness,
"no grinning now, madam. Will you pretend to say
you know nothing of where he was last night, where
he is at present?<--bad
he is at present?"<--new

"Helas!" again exclaimed the affrighted Babet:
"sir you forget yourself. Last night? Why it is
yet night. Open the shutters and put out the lamp,
and you will still be in darkness. Let me return to
bed."

"Babet Blais, many a better woman than you have
I wished bedridden," the advocate cried with bitter-
ness. "Beshrew me, but your answer. Remember I
am flint if you are steel, hence the less often we are
smitten together in this enquiry, the fewer may be
the revealing sparks. Babet Blais, here is an affair
of blackest tinder, whereon your bated breath has<--bad
of blackest tinder, whereon your, bated breath has<--new
blown already, until it glows upon your guilty face,
as grimly as the lurid East that brews a rainy day,
to you the type of tears."

"What do you mean?" demanded the half mysti-
fied and still dissembling woman, in terror.


 [[106]]
 {{gardnp106a.png}} || The Advocate ||

 [Illustration: "Babet Blais, here is an affair
 of blackest tinder, whereon your, bated breath has
 blown already, until it glows upon your guilty face."]

 [[106a]]
 {{gardnp106b.png}} || The Advocate ||

 [illustration-backside]

 [[106b]]
 {{gardnp107.png}} || The Advocate ||


"What do I mean? I mean that you shall tell me
where your son was during the last night, and where
he is now."

"Where he is now?" echoed Babet, "Last night?<--bad
"Where he is _now_?" echoed Babet, "Last night?<--new
it is now night, or only just near dawning."

"Yes, we are near the dawning," mocked the old
man, with loud, relentless equivoque. "Madam, shed
here the sunbeams of your highest intelligence; clear
the dull atmosphere of your soul from fog; and let
us see and hear respecting this occurrence, all that
yourself have seen, and heard, and known,"<--bad
yourself have seen, and heard, and known."<--new

"Master, I know nothing," said she, "what affair?"
enquired the woman, fitfully.

"Is Narcisse at home?" bellowed the advocate,
quivering with excitement, and red to the roots of
his white hair with wrath. "Evil betide me that he
should have ever made here his home;" he continued.
"Who called him hither? I? No, no; I called for
aught that might see fit to come, conditioned that it
came in human guise; but yonder frothy fool, yon
swarthy pigmy, I did not summon him. I called for
anything of earth, but Heaven (to punish me) straight<--bad
any thing of earth, but Heaven (to punish me) straight<--new
passed the unhallowed call to hell, that sent me up a
demon," The apartment resounded with the last<--bad
demon." The apartment resounded with the last<--new
word, and still the old man's voice was heard like the
departing rumble of a thunder peal, as he continued,
with clasped hands and upturned eyes, whilst his
countenance assumed an air of singular elevation<--bad
countenance assumed an air of singular elevation,<--new
passionately exclaiming: "Oh, that a man who could
have entertained the gods with high conceits and
philosophic parle, -- could have communed with spi-
rits of the skies, should be assailed and pestered from
the pit! -- Go on, woman, we will exorcise you, we

 [[107]]
 {{gardnp108.png}} || The Advocate ||

will purge you, though you be fouler than the Augean
stable, that had been left uncleaned for thirty years;
ay, though you be as foul as is the stall that holds the
grimy company of the lost, and which goes uncleaned
for ever. Proceed, I charge thee!" and the fierce-
eyed lawyer sat dilated and erect in his chair, glaring
upon her like a serpent rearing its crest from amidst
its coils, as he waited for an answer,<--bad
its coils, as he waited for an answer.<--new

"I cannot, I know no further," she said at length
with meek doggedness.

"What say you?" exclaimed the advocate, almost
screaming with astonishment.

"I know no further; I know nothing," she replied.

"Assist me, patience, to confound this creature!
Nothing! you know all;" he shouted. "All, I say,
all; for never had such a mother such a son, but he
did pour out all his purposes, all the infernal cornu-
copia, into her breast from his. You have no secrets
between you; you, his mother, know all his course;
his thoughts, intents, conspiracies and plots; his
loves, his hates, his loose, irregular life; his merry
moments, and his moods of malice. I charge thee,
tell us where he was last night, where yesterday,
where he is now, and where he will be to-morrow."

"Monsieur, I know no more, know nothing," cried
the woman, appealing to Claude. "My master is
mad," and, bursting into tears, began: "Here have
I been his housekeeper twenty years--"

"Twenty years too long," vociferated the advocate.
"One half the period that heaven was vexed with a
stiff-necked generation have I endured you, Babet.
Housekeeper! eh? Keeper of the King's conscience
next, a she Lord Chancellor, -- but continue: call

 [[108]]
 {{gardnp109.png}} || The Advocate ||

yourself Keeper of the Seals, and mistress -- or master
either -- of the Rolls, so you unroll your secret. Tell
all you may; empty your flask of falsehood, then at
the bottom we may find some sediment of truth.
Commence; don't count upon concealment. I will
wring the truth from you, though it shall ooze out
drop by drop, and each drop be a portion of your life."<--bad
drop by drop, and each, drop be a portion of your life."<--new

Babet was still silent, but the lawyer pursued:

"Oh, toad, ugly and venomous, you have a precious
jewel in your head; deliver it; discover to myself
and to this gentleman all that you know about your
son's late conduct. Speak, or you shall have your
closed lips forced apart, or there shall be found and
set you such tormenting penance, that you shall sue
with speed to make confession. What! still silent?
Bathe no longer that face with tears. Out on thee,
crocodile! Oh, that those trite tears were scales,
falling, to leave you bare and vulnerable to arrows of
adjurement; then, with patience I could see them
fall as fast as flakes of snow in winter, till thou wert
as white as Judge's ermine with them! Creature,
hast thou nothing plausible, nothing for us, nothing
for him, nor me?"

"Nothing for you, nor for this gentleman," she
answered quietly,<--bad
answered quietly.<--new

"Do not imagine him to be so gentle, neither.
Though he dwells staid and silent, he is a roaring
lion, that should I let slip may soon devour thee,
Babet, Overweening woman, you do not know how<--bad
Babet. Overweening woman, you do not know how<--new
much you and yours have wronged him," said the
advocate.

Claude had heard all this without speaking, but
now he interposed, to try persuasion.


 [[109]]
 {{gardnp110.png}} || The Advocate ||


"Good Babet," said he, soothingly, "if you are
aware of anything untoward of Monsieur's ward, and
will declare it, I guarantee to you, not only a condo-
nation for your son, if he have in any shape conspired
against her, but a reward so weighty for yourself,
that you shall bless the hour that you were awoke so
early to be scolded. What do you know of the lost
lady of Stillyside?"

At these words a smile covered her face, as if of
satisfaction at good news; then, shrugging her shoul-
ders, she languidly asked: "Is she missing?" and
added, "Helas! then others have an absent child, as
well as I," and shook her head; and, with another
shrug, continued, as if "subsiding into herself, and in<--bad
shrug, continued, as if subsiding into herself, and in<--new
a tone of combined decision and sadness: "I know
nothing of the lady, nothing of my boy. Heaven
grant my son is safe, my poor Narcisse, and that he
may not return and meet his cruel father, who so
hates him;" and she brushed away a tear from her
cheek.

"Heaven grant indeed we do not meet at present!"
ejaculated the foiled advocate; "for if we did, I
might so far exceed a parent's punitory privilege, that
I should win but blame from the blind world instead
of sympathy. Begone, vampire," and she vanished,<--bad
of sympathy. Begone, vampire," and she vanished<--new
like a ghost at cockcrow.

That smile of her's at the mention of Amanda mis-
sing, had been caught by the advocate's keen eye, and<--bad
sing, had been caught by, the advocate's keen eye, and<--new
convinced him that she and her son were accessories
to the felony of the night. Brief consultation now
sufficed between him and Claude, who also felt con-
vinced of her complicity. Light began to glimmer
amidst the darkness of the situation, and, as it kind-

 [[110]]
 {{gardnp111.png}} || The Advocate ||

led into a dreary dawn, as might a new scene
amongst dissolving views, shadowy and sinistrous
amidst it seemed to loom the figures of the Duchatels;
and, before the sun had risen, Claude, winged equally
with hope and indignation, was posting towards
Montboeuf. The advocate threw himself upon a
couch, and he would fain have thrown up his brief of
that day, but it was for a case involving capital
punishment, and, at the eleventh hour, to have
deserted his client would have brought upon himself,
not only professional dishonor, but guilt. Hence, with
heavy heart and unwilling faculties he bent his
attention to the study of the important case, whilst
at intervals he swallowed a portion of the morning's
meal, that at the usual hour was silently placed
before him; and at last, with an inexpressible sadness
and boding, he left the stillness of his home for the
walls of the busy and exciting arena of the criminal
court.



 [[111]]
 {{gardnp112.png}} || The Advocate ||






 Chapter XV.


     "Oh, what a rash and bloody deed is this!"
     -- _Hamlet._

     "Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye"
     -- _Macbeth._


The Court had been opened, and was crowded with
lawyers, petit jurors, witnesses, and excited spectators.
A criminal trial of such interest as the present one
had not occurred there for years; and the business
in the Civil Courts had virtually been adjourned, so
great was the determination of the pleaders therein
to be present, and witness the conducting of a case so
calculated to call forth the powers of the renowned
and venerable advocate. All conspired to show that
an extraordinary scene was to be enacted there that
day. The Judge was more than usually grave,
attentive and deliberate; the Crown Prosecutor wary,
and complete in his preparations; the legal, technical,
and clerical grounds of exception and demur, before
the Crown was allowed to take up the burden of proof,
were entered and explored by the advocate, as one who
reconnoitres before committing his feet to dark and
dangerous precincts, where any one of his advancing
steps may prove to be fatal.

And now the case had been laid before the jury,
and the witnesses for the prosecution, each as he tes-
tified touching the fearful crime laid to the charge of
the prisoner at the bar, were being subjected to the
terrible ordeal of a cross-examination by the advocate;

 [[112]]
 {{gardnp113.png}} || The Advocate ||

who all eye all ear appeared, as in his earlier days;
quick to detect, prompt to demand, stern to insist, at
watch and ward at every point; so that his client
seemed to have found in him an irresistible champion,
and the crowd, to all of whom he was familiar, con-
sidered his success as certain, just as the veteran
soldiery anticipate a triumph from the General, who
has so often led them to victory that they deem him to
have become invincible. But to the thoughtful and
more observant, at times he showed signs of preoccu-
pation, strangely at variance with his present un-
doubted supremely master mood; and as the trial
proceeded these fits of wandering from the point
increased in duration and intensity. An anxious
expression settled on his countenance; his usually
energetic but measured movements when he was thus
engaged became irregular and nervous; and he fre-
quently cast glances towards the entrance, as if
expecting the arrival of some one; and twice in the
midst of withering cross-examinations, stopped short
at the sight of individuals elbowing their way
through the crowd; gazing upon them enquiringly
and with an air of expectation, until, passing, they
became embedded in the serried mass of spectators;
when, with a look of disappointment, he resumed his
task, and again with consummate talent and charac-
teristic vigor, did battle for his client, whose dark
distinction in the dock went nigh unnoticed, from
the settled attention bestowed on his defender, just
as the prominently exhibited prize is sometimes
overlooked and temporarily forgotten, in the obser-
vation compelled to the rare skill shown by the com-
peting players.


 [[113]]
 {{gardnp114.png}} || The Advocate ||


But whilst the father was thus tasking every power
of his trained intellect, and crowning his career with
forensic fires, that now, in the evening of his genius,
burned even more signally, than they had done in
the midst of its meridian splendors; -- whilst thus
calling upon his great gifts, that, like to antique
jewels brightened by abrasion in the wearing, shone
yet the more from the polish of experience; and
while lending a legal learning that, as a rapier
which, ever ready and ever in requisition, has
acquired no rust, was the more available from long
practice combined with intuitive tact; -- whilst all this
was passing in high and public court, the ignoble son
was awaking in a low lodging; weary and stiff after
the raid of the past night, anxious and timid from a
sense of guilt, and fearful of a future calling to account.
His first wish was to discover whether his sire was
yet informed of the disappearance of his ward. He
knew that his father was retained in the trial
which had been fixed for that day, and had there
been any whom he could conveniently have sent to
ascertain whether or not the advocate was in court,
'he would have despatched one thither, but he could<--bad
he would have despatched one thither, but he could<--new
prevail upon none about him to go for love, and
money he had none to offer. His mother, alarmed
at her master's discovery of the participation by
Narcisse in their successful conspiracy, and not know-
ing where to find the latter, had despatched a messen-
ger to the lodging of their bold and insolent accom-
plice, Alphonse Duchatel, requesting him to warn her
son to avoid his father during that day. But the
messenger failed to find him, and Narcisse at last
arose, dressed, and, prompted by a curiosity that

 [[114]]
 {{gardnp115.png}} || The Advocate ||

overcame his apprehensions, approached the Court
House.

Meantime the advocate, tortured by increasing
alarm, and with his imagination filling with tragic
touches the picture of the possible fate of Amanda,
had lost both recollection and temper; and for the
first time when conducting a cross-examination,
had been not merely baffled, but successfully bearded
and insulted by an irritated witness, to relieve him-
self from whom, he was obliged abruptly to bid him
leave the box. The occurrence stung him to the
quick, though he strove to hide his chagrin; -- no
wonder. Taken at disadvantage, and in a moment
of weakness, the old pleader was obliged to perceive
that the wager of mental duel between himself and
the witness had been decided against him; and to
feel that, in an unsought encounter and fair affray,
he had been publicly worsted. To add to his morti-
fication, the witness walked from the box with the
air of a conqueror, and cast an insolent look of
triumph around the court and upon his antagonist,
whose discomfiture was so signal as to be evident to
judge, jurors, witnesses, spectators, all. Still more
to increase the' advocate's perturbation, the heat of<--bad
to increase the advocate's perturbation, the heat of<--new
the court had become excessive, and the rebuff --
which, at an earlier period of his career, and with
an unwounded heart, would have provoked only
such a grim and threatening smile as a powerful
wrestler might wear, when, in the careless security
of proud contempt, he had been thrown by a boy --
now, in the self-esteem of age and the anguish of
bereavement, moved him almost to madness. Seizing
his gown, he half cast it from his form, regardless of

 [[115]]
 {{gardnp116.png}} || The Advocate ||

decorum, and stood the picture of misery, rage, and
scorn.

Just then the court arose for a brief recess. Glad
to breathe for a moment the fresher air, the specta-
tors retired, the jury returned into their room, the
sheriff and the crown prosecutor sauntered to their
respective offices, the panel of petit jurors escaped in
a body, the prisoner withdrew from the front of the
dock, and sat unseen, pondering his chances between
the gallows and an acquittal; -- even the criers of the
court abandoned their posts, and the younger mem-
bers of the bar, who usually gathered round the
advocate on these occasions, greeting him with
pleasant compliments, and polite and reverent atten-
tions, seeing him thus moody, drifted to the lobby,
and in it paid court to some other, and secondary
legal luminary who was there holding his levee.
For awhile the advocate was left alone; then, emerg-
ing through the large folding doors into the corridor
or lobby, now cumbered with the gossipping groups,
through which he passed, solitary and in his gown,
like Caesar in his robe passing through the midst of
the conspirators, he proceeded past the doors of the
offices occupied by the various crown officials. None
spoke to the old man, he spoke to none, but his breast
burned in agony, and a cloud was on his brow, like
the smoke that wreathes around the crater of a vol-
cano. His eyes seemed to shoot forth sparks, and his
lips were muttering. Anger and sorrow were upon
his face, but, turning a corner in the building, he
was now hidden from the view of the multitude, and
strode along the main corridor towards the huge
double staircase that, midway therein, wound down

 [[116]]
 {{gardnp116a.png}} || The Advocate ||

 [Illustration: "Demon! degenerate dog! where hast thou
 been walking to and fro on the earth?"]

 [[116a]]
 {{gardnp116b.png}} || The Advocate ||

 [illustration-backside]

 [[116b]]
 {{gardnp117.png}} || The Advocate ||

to the dim entrance hall, that was divided by pond-
erous doors from the esplanade between the building
and the busy street. A low, massive balustrade
guarded the bridge-like portion of the corridor that
hung between the heads of the twin flights of stairs, and
whence, on looking down, was seen the paved abyss
below. Approaching this part, what did he behold
but the truant Narcisse, unconscious of his presence,
ascending one of these flights of stairs. At the sight
of him the gloomy elements of his soul seemed to
flash within him and explode, rending all resolution
of restraint, and leaving him a puppet of some de-
structive power, as he stood eyeing his son's approach,
as the cat eyes that of the marauding mouse, motionless,
allowing the culprit to draw near, until, detected, he
stood, too nigh to retreat, too terrified to advance, and,<--bad
stood, too nigh, to retreat, too terrified to advance, and,<--new
as the fascinated bird drops into the open jaws of the
serpent, fell resistless into the grasp of the advocate's
extended hand. Then, as the firedamp when met by
the miner's candle must explode, or as the liberated
lightning must rend the cloud, though the latter be
near Jove's throne, so the frenzied father, regardless,
nay, forgetful, of the place, the time, the occasion, of
himself and natural ties, assailed the scared Narcisse,
clutching him by the throat with the strength of a
maniac, and pushing him backwards against the bal-
ustrade, and holding him there transfixed, while,
with eyes seething with wrath beneath the blanched,
and big, umbrageous brows, and showing like a sud-
den opening of the infernal pit, he cried: "Demon,
degenerate dog, where hast thou been walking to<--bad
degenerate dog, where bast thou been walking to<--new
and fro in the earth? whom helping to devour? Ah,
son of Satan, ah! Aroint thee. Imp, Abortion."<--bad
son of Satan, ah! Aroint thee, Imp, Abortion."<--new


 [[117]]
 {{gardnp118.png}} || The Advocate ||


The astonished wretch strove to reply, but terror
and strangulation forbade him; and the enraged
parent, like an incarnate storm, at arm's-length shook
him, as the dog shakes the rat which it has caught,
or the lion its prey; and each moment the shuddering
youth, hearing his father's deep curses, and stiffening
with horror, was urged further and yet further over
the abyss, and still with aimless, outstretched arms,
and disparted, claw-like fingers, strove to clutch the
advocate's gown; while with upturned and beseech-
ing eyes starting from their sockets, and still half on
the balustrade and half in air, with nothing but the
grasp of his adversary retaining him, he hung, while
the arm that held him quivered, and surged uneasily
from side to side, as if irresolute whether to plunge
him or to draw him back; until a growl of satisfac-
tion, followed by an execration, gurgling in the ad-
vocate's throat, announced the coming climax: the
arm was jerked outwards, the clenched fingers un-
clutched themselves, like an automaton's, and the
miserable mannikin tumbled with a yell down to the
stones beneath. An instant all was silent, then a
faint groan rose from the bruised form, that the next
moment lay on the bloody flags a senseless corpse.
Drawing a loud sigh of indescribable relief, after his
fearful and protracted agitation, the advocate -- and
now murderer -- stood glaring downwards with fixed
eyes and yet clenched teeth; then, sickening at the
horrid sight which loomed beneath, turned and lean-
ed for support against the balustrade over which he
had cast his child. Hearing the noise of the scuffle,
some stragglers from the mixed crowd on the lobby
came running to the spot, and one enquired of the

 [[118]]
 {{gardnp119.png}} || The Advocate ||

advocate if he were seized with a sudden sickness.
But he only pointed downwards to where lay his ill-
fated victim; and shook his head, looking all woe-
begone, in mad, mute misery. Astonished, some des-
cended, and bearing the body up the stairs, laid it on
a bench that stood against the wall, and opposite its
destroyer; while a still increasing and motley mul-
titude, including jurors, witnesses, constables, criers,
counsellors, clerks of the court, crown prosecutor, she-
riff, and lastly, the judge himself, hurrying, gathered
round the scene of the catastrophe. A surgeon who
happened to have been subpoened upon the current
trial, opened a vein, but the blood refused to flow;
and a barrister, stripping himself of his gown, threw
it over the body as a pall. No one dared enquire the
origin of what he saw, until the judge arriving, de-
manded: "Who has done this?"

"I," feebly answered the advocate, ghastly pale,
and yet leaning for support on the fatal balustrade.
Alas! what a change! His countenance was grown
haggard, and his white hair hung dishrevelled about
his collapsed visage, like icicles round the pinched
countenance of Winter. Despair was in his look,
and he uttered the name of Amanda, and gazed be-
wildered around him, as if awaking from a sorrowful
dream; and now began to whimper, to gaze upon the
pall-like gown, and now to call upon the spirit that
had flown -- as a scared bird from a bush -- forth from
the body that lay beneath it.

"Narcisse," he feebly cried, "Narcisse, my son,
-- for thou wert yet my son, -- Narcisse, Narcisse," he
reiterated piteously; and the Sheriff advanced in his
purple gown, and girt with his golden hilted sword,

 [[119]]
 {{gardnp120.png}} || The Advocate ||

laid his hand on the shoulder of the old man, the
lately proud advocate, but now wretched culprit, as a
sign of his being put under arrest. But none else
moved; the Sheriff himself shrinking from ordering
the constable to give effect to the signal. All seemed
transfixed with pain or chained with horror, as in
tremulous tones of touching tenderness the slayer
continued to call upon the dead.

"Narcisse, my son, my son," he cried in agony;<--bad
"Narcisse, my son, my son." he cried in agony;<--new
"Oh, I have killed thee, child; oh, thou art dead,
dead, dead. -- But thou didst steal thy sister; yes, I
know thou didst; ay, that thou didst, and hast deli-
vered her to dishonor, therefore have I killed thee.
Come, Amanda, come hither, dearest, and behold thy
brother; behold thy father, see what he has done,
and all for thee. Yes, I did it, all you curious crowd.<--bad
and all for thee. Yes, I did it, all you curious crowd<--new
Amanda, oh, where art thou? let me see thee ere I
die: Amanda dear, Amanda;" and at the words,
Amanda, leaning on the arm of Claude, and followed
by the elder Montigny and Andre Duchatel, appear-
ed upon the corridor, a sweet smile playing upon her
features, and hastening forwards she fell upon the
neck of her guardian, who was still leaning against
the balustrade, pale, haggard and forlorn. Her com-
panions, restrained by astonishment and fear, gazed
aloof and mute, whilst the wretched criminal, eyeing
them with a look of misery and suspicion, in a tone
of inexpressible sadness at length exclaimed:

"Come you to see me, then, before I die; do you
come to triumph over me. Seigneur Montigny?<--bad
come to triumph over me, Seigneur Montigny?<--new
Look, see there, but do not touch it, for it is abhorred,
abominable, a foul spirit, a black imp of hell. Aman-
da, art thou found? -- Do not tremble, girl, do not

 [[120]]
 {{gardnp121.png}} || The Advocate ||

weep; my daughter, child, for, without a figure,
thou art my daughter; art, to the very letter, love,
my child. Oh, we have much to tell each other; see
what I have done -- but hear me, then condemn me.
Oh, Amanda, it is bliss to see, to feel thee here; --
but here, here in this breast is sadness. I have been
a rash and hasty fool, a madman, if you will, but no,
no murderer; we kill mere vermin, we exterminate
rats, roaches; and what worse than that is this which.<--bad
rats, roaches; and what worse than that is this which<--new
I have done. Pshaw, he was a reptile, a black beetle
that came flying against me. He, my son! Oh,
slander, where wilt thou not cast thy slime? the thing
that the deceitful, wily woman palmed upon me, he
my son, thy brother? preposterous conception. Yet
sad has been the creature's end; and sad, sad, sad,
I felt this morning when I left my home, with a pre-
sentiment which seemed to say, that I should never
enter it again; and that presentiment is now ful-
filled. Fate urged me on. Unnatural hate has pushed
me to the ledge, and now I sink to lose myself in
the abyss. Oh, foul fate! this deed foul, foul! Fair,
fair Amanda, close thine eyes on this enormity; or
be content to see it, yet not understand it, for know-
ledge here would surely drive thee mad."

"Oh, sir, am I not mad, delirious?" enquired
Amanda: "Oh, my kind guardian, my good angel,
more than father, friend. What have you done?
you have done nothing evil!" and she sobbed upon
his bosom, and Claude stood transfixed and silent,
until his eyes meeting those of the advocate, he
demanded passionately:

"Sir, what may this mean; what horrible allusions
drop like venom from your tongue; whence comes

 [[121]]
 {{gardnp122.png}} || The Advocate ||

this change; tell me, I charge you, sir, why are you
now so shaken, so wandering in your noble intellect,
even mad; you whom I left this morning, sad indeed,
yet sane?"

"I do not know whether I was sane or not when
I did what I have done, or whether I am so just
now; but for this scene, which must appear most
strange to you, see there what shall explain it all,"
replied the advocate; and the gown was partially
withdrawn from the corpse by one of the spectators,
and Claude with his male companions gazed upon it
aghast, whilst Amanda turning away in terror and
uttering a feeble moan, hid her face in the old man's
breast.

"How has this happened?" Claude demanded at
last with a voice hoarse and guttural with abhorrence;
and the advocate shrugging his shoulders cynically
replied:

"A bruise, a fatal fall; strange that he should
have died of it. It has been said, the lower in the
scale of being, the higher the tenacity of life. Yet
here is an inferior intelligence dies of as little cor-
poreal damage, as might a poet or a philosopher. There
is no certainty in speculation, for by this experiment
it has been proved, that the bulls-eye in the stable
window, in falling is as fragile as the palace's clearest
pane of crystal. Who would have thought it? A
dunce, that no one would have branded for having
brains, has from a mere tumble given up the ghost.
Bury him, bury him; I am sorry for it, but cannot
howl," and at these last words a howl was heard
from below, and soon Babet Blais came rushing along
the corridor, wringing her hands, and frantically

 [[122]]
 {{gardnp123.png}} || The Advocate ||

demanding: "Where is he, where is my boy, my
sweet Narcisse?" and threw herself upon the corpse
of her son. The advocate looked on with a bitter
smile, and when he beheld her covering with kisses
the cold, coarse features, exclaimed: "How these
things love each other! -- but when he was alive she
would give him the food out of her mouth, draw for
him the blood from her veins, sacrifice the immortal
soul in her body with lies and patent perjury and
crookedest excuses, if so was that she might screen
him and his faults, deceiving me. -- Beshrew thee,
woman! -- but wherefore should I curse thee? thou
art what thou wert made to be, even as I am that
which I was made to be, a desolation and a miserable
man:" and when he ceased Babet started from her
knees, and, looking on him with new born fierceness,
cried: "Monster, not master; man killer, son killer, --
oh, you have killed my own, my dear Narcisse!
murdered my son, my boy, my child, my only joy:"
and she again cast herself upon the body, and, with
her face nestling in the dead bosom, sobbed and wept
aloud.

The advocate seemed softened, and, looking at
Claude, demanded: "Who is there that shall not
fulfil his fate? for this I was born, and for it I shall
die." The sheriff again essayed to remove him, but he
sank at his touch, as the dust of an ancient corpse falls
before the breath of the outer atmosphere, and with
mortality moulding his visage: "Stay," he said, "let
me die here; death has arrested me, he needs no
warrant." A spasm passed over his face, his frame
slightly quivered; and looking beseechingly at Claude,
the latter bent tenderly over him, and he thus began:

 [[123]]
 {{gardnp124.png}} || The Advocate ||

"It were foolish in me to suppose that you have not
heard of my irregularities. You will not be aston-
ished, then, when I call this girl my child, no longer
my mere ward, but mine own child, so late acknow-
ledged. Amanda, child," -- and his voice faltered,
while he spoke with increasing difficulty, -- "will you
acknowledge me in this disgrace, receiving with the
name of father that of felon? Mona Macdonald is
your mother, to whom I have promised marriage till
my way down to perdition is paved with broken
oaths, as false as her love was true, and as hot as
was the fire which fell from heaven, when Elijah
strove with Baal's prophets, and that licked up the
water in the trench, as did those burning oaths of
mine so often dry up her tears. Give me your hand,
Claude; Seigneur Montigny, give me yours. I see a
change within you towards this lady. Stand not
between her and your son, as you would wish no sin
to stand betwixt yourself and Heaven at Judgment."
Then in a low tone meant only for Claude's ear,
he whispered, gasping:

"Think all I would have said, if there were time,
and we were happier. Farewell for ever; I cannot
tarry, neither would I do it now. I have outlived my-
self by near an hour, for I was not myself when I
performed this deed." And again a spasm passed
over his frame, his eyes grew fixed and glazed, and
he earnestly exclaimed: "'Gather near me all who<--bad
he earnestly exclaimed: "Gather near me all who<--new
love me, and all to love whom is my duty. Quick,
quick; for a film overspreads my eyes, the throes of
death are tearing down this frame. Quick, I am
dying. Bend over me; let me perceive your breath,
for I am blind. Bend, bend; -- stoop yet lower; I

 [[124]]
 {{gardnp124a.png}} || The Advocate ||

 [Illustration: "Quick, I am dying: bend over me: let
 me perceive your breath, for I am blind."]

 [[124a]]
 {{gardnp124b.png}} || The Advocate ||

 [illustration-backside]

 [[124b]]
 {{gardnp125.png}} || The Advocate ||

cannot feel you, for each sense grows dull; stoop
lower yet. -- Oh, soul, why all this haste? Amanda,
Claude, poor, missing Mona, I have somewhat more
to say to you; quick, listen, listen, or it will be too
late. Pshaw! pshaw! it is too late, too late, too<--bad
late. Pshaw! pshaw! it _is_ too late, too late, too<--new
late!" And his head fell backwards, and with his
arms clasped convulsively around the necks of Claude
and Amanda, the advocate, like his son, was a corpse.
On the following day both of them were laid in
the English burying ground, but no stone marks the
spot, and in vain the stranger seeks to discover it.
None are able, or care, to point it out, restrained by
a superstitious awe. A few octogenarians still re-
member him, and look grave and shake the head,
when questioned as to the story and fate of the
talented and terrible Advocate of Montreal.



 [[125]]
 {{gardnp126.png}} || The Advocate ||






 -- the end --


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the.



o.c.r.
of gold; 1 will not subsidize jrou to avoid your ward."

gardner
beware, beware, Amanda. Happy the ignorant, hap-
our sweet fortunes." cried Claude impetuously: "For
seemed to be impatient at his lingering, and growled: "Don't
would not, could not, give it you without my
ing means for revenge on their interrupter and succ-
rible idea; but at last growing calmer he exclaimed;
lineaments of the beloved in rock, not sand.'


Monsieur "Veuillot? my evil genius call him. Son!


watching aver
taste- Both
Monsieur "Veuillot? my evil genius call him. Son!
about by day; a bat, and a bad bat, that 'flits from
hunt him?" said the advocate, mocking. "Did you
barn,' -- "Wretches," he hollowed; and the guilty





 [[126]]