"Inside," they tell him, "both of 'em."

He goes tremblingly into the apartment of the dark dresser, the few white plates, the vividly-clad figures, and the bodyless clock.

On the white deal table, with a heap of blankets about her, Norah lies in that mysterious no-man's land, between life and death. The doctor's assistant is wrestling might and main with the grim, shrouded visitant.

"Will she come back? Noble girl! will she come back?” Bertie asks in a broken voice.

"I can't say. The other," replies the assistant, indicating the inner room with a movement of his head, because he doesn't wish to pause in his task-" the other, with the doctor in there, is as bad." "Never mind the other. She is the cause of it," says Bertie indignantly. "I don't care about the other. It is Norah!"

But presently, as there is no sign of life on the pale, dark face, whose jet-black hair makes night and morning with the white bedclothes about it, he passes through the doorway and looks down, speechless, amazed, upon the pale face and golden hair of Lily Tarleton.

"Great God!" (going up beside the bed) "is there no hope, doctor? For heaven's sake do what you can!" And then he breaks down altogether and sobs-for he has a tender heart, though he doesn't quite know whose it is.

Through the long doubtful hours that follow he goes to and fro between the two rigid figures, his heart bleeding at the sight of each, and irresolute even then which he would prefer saved if one must be taken and the other left.

"For heaven's sake, doctor," he implores, " bring them back! You must! If you can't bring both, bring one. I cannot see them both die before my eyes."

In the evening twilight, when the grim scene is weirdly lighted up with candles, one of the two comes back. Bertie is told by the doctor, and flies joyfully to that bedside.

It is Lily's.

They persist an hour longer with Norah, and then reluctantly abandon the attempt. Norah has gone so far upon the mysterious road that she cannot hear them calling her to return.

If, finding herself in difficulties with the weeds, she had relinquished Lily, she might have lived; but she preferred to hold Lily to the last, and so died to save her.

Thus things happen in the great play in which, without knowing its name, we all take eager part. Lily comes back none the worse for her adventure, and the difference is made up with Bertie; and

she tells him how wretched she was without him.

And he swears with the most extravagant protestations, and the most sincere belief that they are true, that she is the only woman he ever loved, and that, if he hadn't had her, his life would have been an empty blank.

And Norah's fate is a respectful remembrance in local hearts, and a tearful remark from Mrs. Marcus, "It was the third time, you see.” This, and silence in Swiftwater churchyard. Her hopes and dreams are dead. The castles in the air have vanished from her eyes; the pony she wanted to drive has never been foaled or broken-never will beor, if it has been and is, it is the pony Mrs. Vale drives so gracefully about her neighbourhood that all the people turn to look admiringly after her.

More than these things have come to pass in Swiftwater in these later days. They have built the bridge. It is a particularly ugly iron structure, and stands where Norah's ferry used to be: her old occupation is as dead as she. The only thing perhaps that hasn't greatly changed in Swiftwater is Mr. Noakes, who grows especially beautiful flowers with especial care and makes them into wreaths, and enters Swiftwater churchyard by stealth, looking very stout beneath his coat, and comes out again presently, wet-eyed and very thin.

457

THE LORD PROTECTOR'S MASTER

OF THE HORSE.

TH

HERE are some curious narratives and glimpses of history hidden away among the files of Chancery Bills and Answers in the Record Office. Upon several such the writer came recently in the course of some researches as to the children of Elizabeth Claypole, the favourite daughter of Oliver Cromwell; and it is thought that the pictures afforded by them in their quaint detail and incidental allusions may not be without interest even to the general reader.

John Claypole, eldest son of John Claypole, of Norborough, or Northborough, in Northamptonshire, was married, at the age of twenty, to Elizabeth, second daughter of Oliver Cromwell. Residing at the court of his father-in-law during the Protectorate, he held the post of Master of the Horse, besides other offices of dignity, and sat in Cromwell's House of Lords. But in 1658 his wife and her father died, and, although he retained his offices during the short Protectorate of his brother-in-law, the downfall of Richard Cromwell and the restoration of the Monarchy naturally terminated his connection with Whitehall.

It is in the year after the Restoration that John Claypole's law troubles appear to begin. In the autumn of 1661 three actions were brought against him at the common law by Edwin Rich, John Elliot, and Ralph Silverton respectively. Edwin Rich sued him for £50 for money lent, John Elliot for £38. 13s. 5d. for goods, and Ralph Silverton for £56. 10s. 5d. for a parcel of fringe and silk. Alleging his inability to procure evidence to combat these claims, John Claypole presented a petition in each case to the Lord Chancellor, Clarendon. One Charles Rich, he said, was at the bottom of all the mischief. Charles Rich was Gentleman of the Horse under Claypole, and we find his name in the State papers in Oliver's time as "His Highness's Avenor," and in 1659 as "Keeper of State Coaches." Rich, laying out money in the course of his service, and taking up "divers comodityes and necessaryes," not satisfied by the

Cromwells, sought to make Claypole liable, and pretended that to satisfy some of these claims he had borrowed £50 from Edwin Rich, his brother, for Claypole's use and by his authority; the fact being, so the petitioner stated, that Edwin Rich was an entire stranger to Claypole, and that his brother had used his name simply to extort money, Charles having been reimbursed all moneys laid out by him in his service. As for Elliot and Silverton's claims, they arose, Claypole said, in the same way, being claims incurred in the service of the Cromwells, and for which he was in no way personally liable, and he charged Charles Rich in each case with combination and confederacy.

All the defendants filed answers to John Claypole's bills, but, in the meantime, they had each prosecuted their common law actions to trial and had each obtained a verdict. Oliver Cromwell's son-inlaw pleading a discharge of debts by Oliver and Richard stood at a disadvantage. Edwin Rich asserts that Charles came to him as an urgent messenger from Claypole, and that, although he himself had no great acquaintance with Claypole, yet "conceiving him to be a man of vallue and worth, and the other defendant being this defendant's brother haveinge such imployment and trust under him the complainant, hee this defendant thought he might with safety lend the same."

Charles volunteers a little more information. The Duke de Crequy, Ambassador Extraordinary from France, gave fifty pistolls of gold for certain of Cromwell's coachmen, postilions, or footmen, who it may be supposed attended on him during his stay in the capital. This sum Claypole intercepted and detained during the remaining lifetime of Oliver and the Protectorate of his son; but after the change of Government in May 1659, being "eagerly called upon and pursued" by such coachmen, postilions, and footmen, and "in danger of being petisoned against att the then Counsell of State . . . and being then, as hee pretended, in some distresse for present money to stopp their clamor," he sent Charles specially to his brother, importuning him to make the loan and promising to give his bond for repayment.

Elliot, suing as executor of his father, asserts that his claim is for fruit supplied by his father, and "used and eaten in the complainant's own house." The goods were bought by Mrs. Katherine Gardner, widow, servant and housekeeper to Claypole, and would not have been delivered if she had not stated that Claypole would pay for them.

Silverton states that Charles Rich bought the fringe and silk for

which he sues expressly as servant and agent of Claypole, and that they were used for Claypole's own coach. Both he and Elliot add that Claypole is much mistaken if he thinks that they bring their actions to "draw a composition" from him, for they intend to make no composition, and to receive nothing less than the whole amount claimed together with their costs.

The line taken up by Charles Rich in his answers is wary enough. Claypole, he says, accuses him of having received moneys from the Cromwells for which he has not properly accounted. The Cromwells are no parties to these suits, and Claypole is not entitled to question him on the subject or to demand any account. As to the charge of prosecuting actions in the names of the other defendants, "he is advised that he ought not to be compelled to answer, for that if it be true the same tendeth to champerty and maintenance, and soe consequently punishable and examinable elsewhere and not in this honourable Court."

Whatever one may think of Rich, it is evident that the ex-Master of the Horse got the worst of it in all these actions.

Rather more than three years later we find Charles Rich again to the fore. John Claypole had filed a bill of complaint against him, calling him to account for moneys belonging to him which he stated were in his hands. Rich files his answer in April 1665, in which he states that no proper settlement had been come to between them since January 1656, but he sets out in a long schedule the various items which he had disbursed for Claypole since that date, for only part of which he had received satisfaction. Whether he was endeavouring to impose on Claypole or not we cannot say, but the items in the schedule itself are evidently genuine, and afford an interesting glimpse into the customs and expenditure of the time. There is just enough of domestic and family interest to whet the appetite and make one wish for more. Thus, we find £1. 45. 6d. expended "ffor a black belt, spurrs, and whipp for Mr. Cromwell Claypoole," and further on he is provided with arrows, gloves, a velvet pouch and girdle, while his cousin, "Mr. Henry Ireton," Bridget Cromwell's boy, has the same things with the addition of a quiver. Hobbyhorses are bought for Richard Cromwell's boy, "Mr. Olliver Cromwell," at a cost of 55. One of the heaviest items is the upholstering of a coach for the Lady Protectress. The velvet for it, at 24s. a yard, cost £38; damask and "black surge" came to £15 more, while ninety ounces of fringe, tufted and plain, cost £10. 3s. Two black chariots with black trimmings were probably used in connection with the Protector's funeral. Pomanders cost £2, and a