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“On, Grace, on for life-nay, never stop to say (for these had become part of their natural langu. farewell — hear you those shrieks. Bertram, in age, and they had lost a sense of the sin in the God's name mount her on the black horse-it frequency of the repetition), fell from them. So is the swiftest. Herman-why do you tarry ? went the night away; a night which set its brand you will kill me if aught happens to her. Bertram on the brain of Ruth Neville--the memory of which -gallop for life or death." But her voice was clung to her while life lasted, turning her dark almost lost in the mad yells which grew louder hair to silver, planting deep furrows on her brow; and nearer every moment.
and transforming her at once from youth to the “Grace-leave go my neck --you must--you premature old age of sorrow. shall away—they clamour for your blood; Grace, Daylight came at last, and with daylight the I implore you leave me.”
officials, who were to convey Ruth to Castle “Ruth, come with me. I will not leave you Rushen. And Herman ? He had not returned, so to their rage and fury, twice to destroy you, to Ruth was still in uncertainty as to the fate of the rack your mind first, blight its peace, and now fugitives. leave your poor fragile frame to the savage fury "Your name is Neville, Ma'am.” of that horrid crowd. Ruth, I will die with you, It was a constable, or some other legal person, but never leave you. How do you know they
who thus addressed her. Ruth did not know who call for me?"
he was, she was anxious only about Gotlieb, for Ruth drew the fatal placard from her pocket. he ought to have been back; so she answered meThere was the one word still; the reward, all chanically, “Yes.” there before her. But the yells increased more Then came some other questions, then some and more; the cottage was surrounded, the doors painful legal explanation or form, and then Ruth besieged. With a desperate effort Ruth dragged stepped into the car which was waiting for her, the encircling arms of Grace away; by force she and telling Amalia, Herman's old wife, to follow was lifted on to the horse; in another moment her as soon as he returned, set off for Castle Bertram and old Herman were mounted, and the
Rushen. galloping of the steeds' feet was soon lost in the As the carriage reached the top of Laxey Hill, shouts of the yelling crowd.
Ruth looked over the calm waters of the Irish Sea. But now Ruth's attention was directed to the A vessel--a cutter-her masts bending under a cottage, for execrations and expressions of disap- load of canvas, stood boldly out to sea. Ruth pointed rage burst from the rabble. . Their prey knew that small craft well, and she could hardly had escaped them, gone they kuew not whither. help an expression of joy as she caught sight of it, Pursuit was their next thought, and acting on
Could those on board have seen how, and wherethat thought, they turned into the path where fore she was there watching them--their expresRuth stood. There she was before them—there sions would have taken anything but the semblance —and with a cry of exultation the ringleaders of joy. But the fate of those two sisters was but sprang forward and seized her; hurrying her on; an epitome of the world's justice—the innocent loading her with abuse, shouting in her cars each jolted uneasily over its rough roads, the guilty coarse and brutal epithet. And Ruth bore it all; gliding smoothly over its sunlit waters. for she saw that their mistake-the mistake of That night Ruth sat alone in her cell at Castle supposing they had the real culprit - would Rushen. Money had procured her some additional effectually screeu Grace, would give her ample comfort in the way of food and furniture, but it time to escape-so she walked on with her savage was a horrible place for one so young and good. conductors, speaking no word, uttering no sound, Some one craved to see her; and the request rejoicing-yes, rejoicing in the part she was play: being accompanied with the usual order for admiting. Into her cottage, into her own little parlour. tance, was granted, and Herman Gotlieb entered. They placed her in a chair, they bound her to it; He was changed, utterly changed, in aspect
; some dozen of the ruthians remained in the room during the last few hours.
He avoided her glance, with her, their coarse language ringing in her ears, did not address her, but stood gloomily beside her. their ribald wirth calling the hot blood to her There was a turnkey in the room, and Ruth could pale cheek.
not speak as she wished; could not ask distinctly all A detachment of the party had gone to Douglas she wanted to know; so she was obliged to veil with the news of her capture, and now they her questions, and be content with ambiguous an-waited but the arrival of the proper authorities, to convey her to Castle Rushen. And she knew all “Did you leave all well, Herman ?" this, and sat there still, calm, unconcerned, un. He bent his head, as his grey eye rested on her, faltering. A few hours more and she would tell and told her all she asked. her own tale; it might be believed or not-sbe Have
But of course you scarcely cared; but those few hours would save bave, or you would not know where to find me.” her sister, so there she remained among that law- How difficult it is to talk, when a third person Jess crew.
Her quiet dignity seemed even to awe mars the intercourse we wish to hold with one them, for by degrees their loathsome jokes ceased, with whom we have some object of more than and only a few remarks mingled with some oaths, common interest. We pause-and then begin
and pause again and then utter some conmon- the packet, and in a short time Douglas was but a place remark, which means nothing, and says 110- distant speck. thing, while our heart is bursting with the one But the Captain now looked grave and anxious, thought we long to utter!
for the vessel could make no way.
The wind Thus was it now. Ruth longed to ask Got- bowled horribly-great waves came rolling in like lieb how poor Grace had fared—and Gotlieb longed monsters ready to destroy the fated vessel. The to say something to Ruth : but the turnkey was bright forked lightnings played through the murky there, so both Ruth and Gotlieb were obliged to clouds as if all creation had been given up to be silent for that day at least. But a thought had them, for the benefit of their mad gambols. struck Ruth-a thought she determined to act on. The waves looked black-black as night-a Money, she had no doubt, would purchase a few sea of ink—with white crested monsters dancing moments' seclusion, therefore she asked Gotlieb here and there in mocking glee. for her purse. He understood her, and replied A sbriek- for one monstrous billow had struck that he would return with it on the following the vessel. She trembled-shivered-recoiled. morning.
It was a moment of horror, but it passed; and And the following day he came; and a few as she recovered from the fearful shock, she again golden pieces purchased the absence of the turn. held on her course, if that could be called “hold. key, and then Ruth could talk to Herman without ing on" which was merely remaining as an almost
stationary mark for the wild fury of the waves. “My sister, Gotlieb ?”
And now there was a whisper of dismay, for the "She left within two hours of your parting from engine fires were out, and the poor di-abled vessel her, and by this time is crossing the Atlantic, far seemed but a mere wreck. Another moment and from all pursuers. Let her rest. I must speak the horrible cry, of "a leak” was beard, and all of yourself. You must no longer lie here. The hands were ordered to the pumps; the water was mistake can now be rectified—the truth owned." deepening in the hold. Work as the sailors would, " Are you sure she is safe ?”
the leakage gained on them; the packet was filling “ Not quite. The 'Sea-bird’ may be detained ast; if she could only hold on a little, Liverpool in Liverpool. We cannot be sure that she is safe might be gained, but the tide had turned, and was till the cutter returns."
now against her. " When will the cutter return ?"
Ruth stood on the deck of the sinking vessel, “When your sister and her husband have sailed, calm, but not unconcerned; she never was unconsuch were my orders.”
cerned for the miseries of others. She looked at “Then I remain here until such time." those straining seamen, and she thought of the
She was inflexible, and Herman was obliged to wives, the little ones who depended on them for yield to her. That evening, the cutter was again support—and she wept, wept for the sorrow she on the shores of the Isle of Man, and brought in- saw might be. Then she heard her name protelligence of the embarkation of Grace and her nounced in a strange, low tone, and turning, she husband.
beheld Gotlieb. Then Ruth consented that the truth should be “ Miss Ruth, dear lady, dear mistress—I would known. There was great indignation--a general speak with you." outcry—but the indignation and the outcry were She was alarmed, and fancied the terrors of the futile. It was proved beyond a doubt that Ruth storm had scared him, for he looked so wild and bag. was not the person against whom the warrant had gard. been granted; therefore she could no longer be de- “Come this
I have much to say to youtained. So she was set at liberty, and the law a horrid secret to cast off my soul, for if I mis. lost a victim; the lawyers lost a case; those take not we are on the threshold of eternity." bloodhounds who had taken her lost their re- He drew her to the end of the vessel, holding ward.
her firmly, for the sea rolled fearfully. But the Isle of Man was now no place for Ruth. “Gotlieb !"-and she tried to drag her arm from On a cold grey morning, when the sea and horizon bis grasp-but he grasped it more firmly still. both look of the same leaden hue, and the earth " Don't fear, dear lady,” he said, " I would not is a stranger to the warm sunbeam—she left. harm you, although there is blood upon this band The wind was blowing keenly, and as she ap- already." proached Douglas it was whispered that there “ Gotlieb !" would be danger in crossing to Liverpool. Ruth -"Nay, do not start; you must hear the tale I cared nothing for danger on her own account, but have to tell. Something whispers to me that I she had no right to peril the lives of the old ser- may ne'er reach yon distant coast, something told me vants who attended her. So she appealed to them, the same when I was in our island home. Look and gave them the choice of crossing that day, here,” (and he drew a sealed packet from his coat) or delaying their departure until the morrow. “in this you bave the account of that night's bloody
Herman decided on the former plan, and his work, when your sister's infant child received its wife, as a matter of course, coincided in the deci- death-wound.” sion. The luggage was therefore put on board Ruth seized the packet eagerly. It bore the
impress of the old clergyman's seal, and a pen- | boldly asked for that which we did not want. cillid paragraph on the cover from him, stating A glance at that now unveiled face--and it was that, although he was himself ignorant of the con- the very face which for ten years we had thought tents, Herman had sworn to their truth,
of by day, dreamt of by night-the face of dear Gotlieb, how did this come into your posses. Ruth Neville ; and her bright smile-and her scarsion, and who is the murderer ?”
let blush told us the meeting was as welcome to "I wrote that paper; it is my own confession - her as to us. for the murderer stands before you."
She was very much changed; but the kind She recoiled from him.
thoughtful face wore its old expression. Her voice You, Gotlieb-and wherefore ?— what harm had its own peculiar tone, and there was the same could that poor babe have done you ?”.
graceful movement and gesture— for Ruth, like “ None. But I hated the moiher and her para- her sister, was very graceful. mour, and I swore to have my revenge on them. She told us she was living in the neighbourI hated her for she had broken your
heart. I hood, in a paradise of a cottage ; and she invited hated him for he had been false to you.
I hated us to come and see her ; but she said she had many both for their joint crime of bringing disgrace on more visits to pay ere she could return, and we the good old name. I entered her room that night must even go with her and pay them, or wait while with a false key-for hers was withdrawn from she went and paid them alone. We preferred going the lock- I told her to do that, persuading her with her, and so we went; and stood stupidly
; that it was safer. She slept soundly—for I bad and uselessly by in each cottage she entered — ensured that also—her evening meal had been staring at her as she spoke her words of love and drugged. I painted her face and hands with her kindness. child's blood, for I meant the suspicion to fall on How the village children loved her ! her, and I would have given my life to see her friend, mother, companion to them.
Were they hung. She was proud and haughty, and she never sick ?--- her shoulder was the pillow for each feverish spoke to me as you did--and then when she took head. Were they well and merry ? She joined in your place with him, I swore she should rue it their mirth, and made that mirth more mirthful. bitterly.”
Her life was happy, because useful; there was no For one moment he stood silently beside her— sickly, sentimental sorrowing, no maudlin repining as if he expected her to speak. Then-ere she about, or allusion to, blighted hopes and misplaced could stay him, a bound--a plunge—and the boil- affection, to an existence whose whole peace had ing sea closed over him for ever. It was impos- been destroyed; no pondering over wbat “ had sible to save him, they were compelled to abandon been,” “ might have been;" Ruth Neville was him to his fate.
noble-hearted woman, conductiug herself uobly And now the ship seemed to make better way,- in every phase of her eventful life. the sea was quieter. The sailors worked still un- And now we whisper one little secret. For ten flaggingly but the success of their efforts would long years we had a lingering hope that Ruth have been doubtful, had not a steam tug come to Neville might some day be Ruth Neville no longer. their assistance, and dragged the vessel safely up And so one day we told her, but she shook her the Mersey.
little head and muttered some nonsense about Ten years passed, and ve had undertaken a many more worthy in the world," which we did pedestrian tour through North Wales. We were not believe one bit. sauntering near the foot of Snowdon one evening, We should have been very miserable at the when we met a lady walking silently, sadly along shake of the head—but her own bright smile played the road. There was something which reminded around her mouth, and negativing the shake, bade us of days gone by-of scenes perhaps, of other us hope-and we do hope-lope auxiously for the lands and other days—and, with an uncontrollable day when, at God's altar, we shall take Ruth Neville impulse, we bent our steps in the same direction as for our own, dear, glorious wise. hers. She was so closely veiled that we could And, moreover, the day is not far off, we not see her face, but she very soon came to a small | fancy-for we think we heard another whispercottage (which, as we imagined she would) she and the whisper wasentered.
"Not yet, dear Ralph. Let the bright spring Now, we thought, the veil will be raised; what come first, this dreary winter pass. 'Twill metaphor excuse bave we for entering? A glass of water. iny life, Ralph—its cold and sorrow over-its time Good. It will do. So we went in boldly, and as of sunny gladness coming."
"Sir, we had talk."- Dr. Johnson.
“ The honourablest part of talk is to give the occasion ; and then to moderate again, and pass to somewhat else."-Lord Bacon.
In truth we
where their material comes from. The ethics of Literary Originality have yet to be may observe that the man of genius is distinguished settled. Whoever reads and remembers knows by two characteristics—1. He says things that very well that correspondences, even of a close never were said before ; 2. He says things that and verbal kind, are frequent between writers of have been said from time immemorial by men of all classes, whom mankind have long ago, and for genius. A third characteristic is that he is a all time, admitted to the highest honours; and constant self repeater. No writer that is worth that they occur so frequently, and under circum twopence has more than half-a-dozen good ibings stances so equivocal, that the question of origin is, to say, and these he keeps on turning in and out
, in eight cases out of ten, indeterminable. More and applying here and there in new ways, so that over, any one who is in the babit of thinking as the profane vulgar fancy he is propounding novelwell as reading, (whether he write out his thoughts ties, while the elite (such as you and I) and himself or not,) soon discovers enough of his own liability know that it is nothing of the sort. to excogitate ideas which have been produced After all, there is such a crime as plagiarism before, to make him cautious in bringing charges recognised in the Republic of Letters, and in
Fery of “plagiarism.” If the same thought and the flagrant cases we all know it for what it is. Colesame illustration occur to two different people, a ridge was a plagiarist when he deliberately cribbed similar form of expression follows as a matter of from Schelling.* Sterne was a plagiarist when he course, and it is the gratuitous churlishness of almost copied from Sir Thomas Browne. But pedantry to take for granted that A, who says between absolute originality, and absolute plagiasomething noticeable in almost the very words of I rism, there is a wide borderland in which it is not B, has read B. It is quite possible he may never always easy to find the right word for characterising have done so. The writer of these lines has been a particular instance in which one author may be, before now suspected of imitating authors whom or scem to be, indebted to another. The following he has never seen—with the unfortunate addition observations may not be quite unworthy of attenthat they were authors who:n it is assumed every tion :reading man must have read. On the other band, I. In every generation there will probably be a he has just found out in a standard pliilosophical large number of writers-chiefly, perhaps, poetic work to which he will not now more particularly writers—in whion facility will tread rather closely refer, a sentence so startlingly like one of his own on the heels of genius, without the presence of any that, until he had ascertained that the work in great amount of imaginative faculty. Writers of question was written several years ago, hic suspected this stamp will be likely to produce from the rean unconscious appropriation—his own sentence sources of their own minds precisely those sorts of having occurred in a casual paper which was rather ideas whieh are of frequent occurrence in good freely quoted at the time. He could greatly mul- literature-ideas which, excellent in themselves, tiply such instances, from his own experience and lie very much upon the surface of the topics in that of literary friends—instances, that is, of cor- nature and life to which they belong. In other respondence, minute and verbal, in cases where words, the originality of such minds will bare ail appropriation, conscious or unconscious, was abso the appearance of borrowing. Gray was an inlutely impossible.
stanice in point. Thomas Wharton is another. It But it is certain that this word “correspon- has been said that “every line” of Gray's Elegy, dences” does not suffice to cover all the cases in immortally meritorious as it is, “ may be traced to which great writers have produced passages like another.” The real truth is, not that Gray stole those of other writers. Malone (I have not read his ideas, hut that lic hit upon such ileas in the him, but I quote him on the authority of Emerson) poetry of his theme as poetic minds of all racks says of the First, Second, and Third parts of Henry would be pretty sure to seize. Hence, be sa VI., that “out of 6,043 lines, 1,771 were written original in the sense of not being a plagiarist, bat by some author preceding Shakespeare; 2,375 by not original in the sense of saying shings before him, on the foundation laid by his predecessors ; unsaid. Yet something of high originality belongs while 1,899 were entirely his own." The case of Shakespeare, as re-creating a dramatic literature * It is said, however, that Coleridge would sometimes (if we should not rather say creating it), was
attribute his own remarks to other people, in forgelinizes peculiar; and so was that of Chancer-also in- ideas once assimilated. I have a friend who will repeat
of their origin. Some men soon forget the origin of gtanced by Mr. Emerson. But often there is a cer.
own remarks to my face as if they were his own, and deer, iain insouciance in the highest order of minds as to few days after I have made them.
to Gray; for what he wrote was quite individual This instance will serve for a thousand. Cases of -his manner was his own. The same remark mere suggestion or reminiscence, more or less new, does not apply with quite equal force to Wharton; do not receive the name of plagiarism, though their but he belongs to the same order of minds. frequency may be taken into account in estimating
II. Minds not overstrong assimilate crudely a writer's strength. , and give off too readily, so that the work of III. Neither is plagiarism the word to use, when
others shows through theirs when theirs is done. similarity of phrase arises from the employment Poets, says Shelley, are a very chameleonic of unavoidable epithets, or quite natural epithets race, and betray what they liave been feeding on (however common), or commonplaces in composiby their colour. Let us illustrate by example. tion. A sharp-sighted weekly contemporary bas Longfellow is a great, a very great, borrower, and included in its list of “ plagiarisms” of Mr. Alex,
. I scarcely know what verdict to pass upon some of ander Smith several passages which are excluded his “ appropriations” of other men's ideas and by the exceptions just laid down. A few may be
A words. But, apart from all question of plagiarism, selected for comment here : no poet that ever sang (and a poet I call him*)
Some soft and soul-subduing air.-Smith. shows in his works more frequent traces of the
Her soul-subduing voice applied.---Collins. suggestions of other men. In the “Golden Legend” are these well-known and beautiful lines : This is not a case of plagiarism -- "soul-subdu
ing" is hackneyed ; it is a mere commonplace, at
anybody's service. It might be found in a thousand I cannot sleep! my fervid brain Calls up the vanished past again. .
Checquered my page with shadows of the grass.-Smith.
Checquered with woven shadows, as I lay
Among the grass-W. Allingham.
The same remark applies. The passage is a com-
monplace in both writers. The next quotations The airy crowds of long ago,
are more doubtful :-
Loose as a film that flatters on the grate.-Smith.
Only the film that flutters in the grate.-Coleridge. Into a garden of delight. . and so forth, till LUCIFER come out of the flash
This is not precisely a commonplace—but the of lightning. Now, for a restless man to be
“ filin ” in question is so natural an image for thinking of his friends by night is common enough;
“ looseness," and it is so natural to describe it as
“ the film that flutters in the grate,” that a score any poet may use the situation. But certain fea. tures in the metre and phraseology here inevitably of poets might write the line without borrowing suggest a passage in the first canto of the “Lady from each other. It comes under the same cateof the Lake,” verse xxxiii., rather too strongly to gory as permit us to escape from the idea that Longfellow
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day. was a debtor to Walter Scott,-unconsciously a
Again : debtor, and not so to any large extent, but still a
Chanticleer that struts debtor,-in the construction of those lines. Let
Ainong his dames, faint.challenged, claps his wings,
And crows defiance to the distant farms.-Smith.
Stoutly struts his dames among.- Milton.
The sluill defiance of all to arms
Shrieked by the stable cock received
An angry answer from three farms.-Coventry Patmore.
I think any artist with a healthy self-consciousThen, -- from my couch may heavenly might ness would avoid coincidences like these, but I do Chase that worst phantom of the night!
not call them “plagiarisms.” You must call the Again returned the scenes of youth,
bird in question a cock, a “rooster,” or a chantiOf confident, undoubting truth; Again his soul he interchanged
cleer, and the last is the accredited thing in poetry. With friends whose hearts were long estranged.
You must say he “struts," if you describe his moveThey come, in dim procession lei,
ments at all, for he does strut, and nothing else. The cold, the faithless, and the dead,
As for calling the hens bis “ dames," that again is As warm cach hand, each brow as gay,
hackneyed, too hackneyed to be called a plagiarism. As if they parted yesterday, &c.
And to describe the cock's crow as si detiance * So does Tennyson. In “In Menoriam," the reference so natural that anybody may do it. Once more :
I hold it true, with him who sings
Streaks of rain fell on the yellow woods.-- Smith.
Yellow woods were waning
Heavily, the low sky raining--Tennyson
Good gracious! Is this a plagiarism ? Why,