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So, when the boy came down with his arms full of books, he set himself to his task with an earnestness that pleased Noll wonderfully. "Uncle Richard means that I shall progress," he thought; "and oh, I do hope I can keep up with Ned and the rest!" Trafford found his nephew an apt scholar. He had expected that, however, for the boy came of a book-loving race.
God only knows what I might have been, had I always lived in the sunshine of his pure, warm heart. Why are you so silent, Noll?" The boy could not trust himself to speak, and Trafford suddenly saw that there were tears shining in his eyes. Noll felt his uncle's hand laid upon his head, and the stern voice said, with all the tenderness of which it was capable, "It's a hard life for you, Noll.
"Only a box, Sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. "It's an odd-shaped one," rejoined Kneebone, examining it attentively. "But I can guess what it's for. Sir Rowland is one of us," he added, winking at his companions, "and so was his brother-in-law, Sir Cecil Trafford. Old Lancashire families both. Strict Catholics, and loyal to the backbone.
Trafford came out upon the piazza while he sat there absorbed in their contents, and as he walked along toward the skipper, who stood waiting at the bottom of the steps, noted the boy's eager, delighted face, and wondered why the lad did not return to his friends, where, it was quite evident, he was much desired and longed for. Why did he stay on this dreary Rock?
Trafford followed, without a word, and Noll led the way to the little schoolroom, with its two benches and three-legged stool and pile of well-thumbed primers and spelling-books. "It's not much," said Noll, apologetically, "but it's a beginning, and they all know their letters, and some can spell a little."
He thinks me cold and unloving, and well, he has reason to." Hardly had ten minutes elapsed before the door swung softly open, and Noll re-entered. Trafford did not look up, did not hear him, in fact, and presently was startled by a voice saying, brokenly, "Uncle Richard!" Then he looked up. Noll stood before him with downcast eyes and a trembling lip.
Why, oh, why, of all times, did this gentle breathing come to him here? It seemed to Trafford as if his wife's lips had whispered it close to his ear, and he bowed his head upon his breast, while his breath came quick and fast, and bitter tears of grief stood in his eyes.
"Your uncle must protect you. It will be his interest to do so. He will be dependent on you." "Do what you please with him," muttered Trenchard to Wild. "Take off these chains, Rowland," said Lady Trafford, "instantly, I command you." "I will," replied Jonathan, advancing, and rudely seizing Thames. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!"
Lady Persiflage therefore wrote to George Roden, Esq., at the General Post Office. In this letter it was signified that Lord Persiflage was very anxious to make the acquaintance of Mr. Roden. Lady Persiflage was also very anxious. Lady Persiflage explained that she was aware of, Well! Lady Frances Trafford was to be at Castle Hautboy, and that she thought might act as an inducement to Mr. Roden.
Trafford turned suddenly about at these words, exclaiming, "Hush, hush! don't talk about death, boy! What have you been up to that dreary little heap of graves for?" "Partly to please Dirk, partly because I wished, Uncle Richard. It's a dismal place! I'm glad enough to get back." "We shall both sleep there soon enough," said Trafford, who seemed to be in one of his gloomiest moods.
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