66 The "venerated teacher" is Henry Hallam, who, in the second chapter of the first part of his book on the Middle Ages, has a few remarks on commendation," revealing very little, for they are uttered with the reserve which is sure to be found in that author when he cannot see his way clearly through his materials. So far as we believe, the term is never used in the Chronicles in reference to the relations between England and Scotland except once, and that single usage is significant. It is cited by Ducange as one of the few precedents he can find for the use of the term. He finds William of Malmesbury telling that the province of Cumberland was commended to the King of Scots: 66 Provincia quæ vocatur Cumberland, Regi Scotorum sub fidelitate jurisjurandi commendata est." The English chronicler not being able to find a satisfactory reason for the province being governed by the King of Scots, laid hold of the feudal arrangement, which was, according to his notions, the most likely cause of the phenomenon. Why did King Edward say nothing about commendation? Instead of a plea so simple, he rested his claims on the family settlement of King Brutus, as determined by the peculiar rule of hereditary succession practised in Troy. In this, as in other instances of terms applicable to minor feudal usages, it is useless to attempt precision. We cannot describe the nature and effect of a commendation as we would those of a railway debenture or a dock-warrant. But in the rambling notices brought together by Ducange we can see many qualities very inconsistent with the theory that commendation bound Scotland permanently to England. We are told that it was distinct from feudality in being only for the life of the client, and that to make a commendation to the superior was contrary to feudal usage, because it deprived the superior of a vassal bound to a vassal's obligations. Perhaps there was another reason why a holder was shy of commending his fief to his own superior when he went off to the Crusades-he would find it very difficult to recover possession. Mr Freeman says, "My narrative of the relations between England and Scotland, and my view of the dependence of the Scottish Crown on the English Empire from 924 to 1328, are grounded on what I believe to be the sure witness of ancient authorities, read to a great extent under the guidance of Sir Francis Palgrave." There is a revelation here. It is a well-known phenomenon, going deep into the history of the propagation of opinion, that men will support the opinions of those whom they count their teachers with a dogmatism and persistence which they would not lend to the promulgation of their own self-formed opinions. We had much rather that Mr Freeman would take this matter into his own hand. He is quite able to deal with it. He has carried the torch into many dark corners, and unravelled many perplexities, in a manner which those only who know the dire confusion of the kind of material he has had to deal with can appreciate. In what he has told of the great Cnut, or Canute, he has done a service, the extent of which is acknowledged by the Danish archæologists, who are apt to be severe judges of such work. In speaking of the work on 'Scotland under her Early Kings,' by Mr E. William Robertson, Mr Freeman says, "If I were inclined to reproach Mr Robertson for writing with an obvious Scottish bias, he would probably be able to retort, with equal truth, that I write with an obvious English bias." It is natural to suppose, from Mr Robertson's name, that he is a Scotsman, but he is an English country gentleman. He has gone over the question between Scotland and England on the technical grounds, and finds that on these the maintainers of the English superiority are in error. Had he found it otherwise, we would not have taken the cause as fundamentally settled, for there was all opportunity for technicalities going against Scotland. Not to speak of the competitors for the Crown and the descendant of Baliol, there were other monarchs sitting on the throne who would have sold the independence of the country but for the suspicious vigilance of those about them. Had every ruler of Scotland had his way, the country would not have survived as a sovereign state to make terms of union with England. Mr Freeman announces his wish to discuss the question with Mr Robertson at length. By all means the more we have of the truth the better. Though Mr Freeman succeed in establishing his Commendation, it will not uproot our faith in the long-established courage, endurance, and high spirit of the Scottish people. After these pages had been written, but before they were printed, Mr Freeman has given his first challenge. We see in it no reason to fear ungenerous dealing or exasperating remark, but rather a dawning on him that, in the disposition of the people of the country, there was something in the presence of which the feudal usages, which have throughout a great part of this dispute been counted all in all, were in reality but pomps and ceremonies. BROWNLOWS. PART IX. CHAPTER XXVI.-A DOUBLE HUMILIATION. JACK entered the avenue that evening in a frame of mind very different from his feelings on his last recorded visit to Swayne's cottage. He had been sitting with Pamela all the evening. Mrs Preston had retired up-stairs with her headache, and, with an amount of good sense for which Jack respected her, did not come down again; and the young fellow sat with Pamela, and the minutes flew on angels' wings. When he came away his feelings were as different as can be conceived from those with which he marched home, resolute but rueful, after his first interview with Mrs Preston. Pamela and her mother were two very different things-the one was duty, and had to be got through with; but the other- Jack went slowly, and took a little notice of the stars, and felt that the evening air was very sweet. He had put his hands lightly in his pockets, not thrust down with savage force to the depths of those receptacles; and there was a kind of half smile, the reflection of a smile, about his mouth. Fumes were hanging about the youth of that intoxication which is of all kinds of intoxication the most ethereal. He was softly dazzled and bewildered by a subdued sweetness in the air, and in the trees, and in the sky-something that was nothing perceptible, and yet that kept breathing round him a new influence in the air. This was the sort of way in which his evenings, perhaps, were always to be spent. It gave a different view altogether of the subject from that which was in Jack's mind on the first dawning of the new life before him. Then he had been able to realise that it would make a wonderful difference in all his plans and prospects, and even in his comforts. Now, the difference looked all the other way. Yes, it would indeed be a difference! To go in every night, not to Brownlows with his father's intermitting talk and Sara's" tantrums" (this was his brotherly way of putting it), and the monotony of a grave long-established wealthy existence, but into a poor little house full of novelty and freshness, and quaint poverty, and amusing straits, and-Pamela. To be sure that last was the great point. They had been speculating about this wonderful new little house, as was natural, and she had laughed till the tears glistened in her pretty eyes at thought of all the mistakes she would make -celestial blunders, which even to Jack, sensible as he was, looked (to-night) as if they must be pleasanter and better and every way more fitting than the wisest actions of the other people. In this kind of sweet insanity the young fellow had left his little love. Life somehow seemed to have taken a different aspect to him since that other evening. No doubt it was a serious business; but then when there are two young creatures, you understand, setting out together, and a hundred chances before them, such as nobody could divine-one to help the other if either should stumble and two to laugh over everything, and a hundred devices to be contrived, and Crusoe-like experiments in the art of living, and droll little mishaps, and a perpetual sweet variety-the prospect changes. This is why there had come, in the starlight, a sort of reflection of a smile upon Jack's mouth. It was, on the whole, so very considerate and sensible of Mrs Preston to have that headache and stay up-stairs. And Pamela, altogether apart from the fact that she was Pamela, was such charming company-so fresh, so quick, so ready to take up anything that looked like fun, so full of pleasant changes, catching the light upon her at so many points. This bright, rippling, sparkling, limpid stream was to go singing through all his life. He was thinking of this when he suddenly saw the shadow under the chestnuts, and found that his father had come out to meet him. It was rather a startling interruption to so pleasant a dream Jack was very much taken aback, but he did not lose his self-possession; he made a brave attempt to stave off all discussion, and make the encounter appear the most natural thing in the world, as was the instinct of a man up to the requirements of his century. "It's a lovely night," said Jack; "I don't wonder you came out. I've been myself for a walk. It does a fellow more good than sitting shut up in these stuffy rooms all night." Now the fact was Jack had been shut up in a very stuffy room, a room smaller than the smallest chamber into which he had ever entered at Brownlows; but there are matters, it is well known, in which young men do not feel themselves bound by the strict limits of fact. "I was not thinking about the night," said Mr Brownlow; "there are times when a man is glad to move about to keep troublesome things out of his mind; but luckily you don't know much about that." "I know as much about it as most people, I suppose, sir," said Jack, with a little natural indignation; "but I hope there is nothing particular to put you out that Wardell case "I was not thinking of the Wardell case either," said Mr Brownlow, with an impatient momentary smile; "I fear my clients' miseries don't impress me so much as they ought to do. I was thinking of things nearer home Upon which there was a moment's pause. If Jack had followed his first impulse, he would have asked, with a little defiance, if it was anything in his conduct to which his father particularly objected. But he was prudent, and refrained; and they took a few steps on together in silence towards the house, which shone in front of them with all its friendly lights. "No," said Mr Brownlow, in that reflective way that men think it competent and proper to use when their interlocutor is young, and cannot by any means deny the fact. "You don't know much about it; the hardest thing that ever came in your way was to persuade your self to give up a personal indulgence; and even that you have not always done. You don't understand what care means. How should you? Youth is never really occupied with anything but itself." "You speak very positively, sir," said Jack, affronted. "I suppose it's no use for a man in that selfish condition to say a word in his own defence." "I don't know that it's selfish it's natural," said Mr Brownlow; and then he sighed. "Jack, I have something to say to you. We had a talk on a serious subject some time ago "Yes," said Jack. He saw now what was coming, and set himself to face it. He thrust his hands deep down into his pockets and set up his shoulders to his ears, which was a good warning, had Mr Brownlow perceived it, that, come right or wrong, come rhyme or reason, this rock should fly from its firm base as soon as Jack wouldand that any remonstrance on the subject was purely futile. But Mr Brownlow did not perceive. "I thought you had been convinced," his father continued. "It might be folly on my part to think any sort of reason would induce a young fellow, brought up as you have been, to forego his pleasure; but I suppose I had a prejudice in favour of my own son, and I thought you saw it in the right point of view. I hear from Sara to-night 66 "Don't be a fool, Jack," said Mr Brownlow, sharply. Sara has told me nothing that I could not have found out for myself. I warned you, but it does not appear to have been of any use; and now I have a word more to say. Look here. I take an interest in this little girl at the gate. There is something in her face that reminds me-but never mind that. I feel sure she's a good girl, and I won't have her harmed. Understand me once for all. You may think it a small matter enough, but it's not a small matter. I won't have that child harmed. If she should come to evil through you, you shall have me to answer to. It is not only her poor mother or any poor friend she may have "Sir," cried Jack, boiling over, "do you know you are insulting me?" "Listen to what I am saying," said his father. "Don't answer. I am in earnest. She is an innocent child, and I won't have her harmed. If you can't keep away from her, have the honesty to tell me so, and I'll find means to get you away. Good Lord, sir! is every instinct of manhood so dead in you that you cannot overcome a vicious inclination, though it should ruin that poor innocent child?" A perfect flood of fury and resentment swept through Jack's mind; but he was not going to be angry and lose his advantage. He was white with suppressed passion, but his voice did not swell with anger as his father's had done. It was thus his self-possession that carried the day. "When you have done, sir," he said, taking off his hat with a quietness which cost him an immense effort, "perhaps you will hear what I have got to say." Mr Brownlow for the moment had lost his temper, which was very foolish. Probably it was because other things too were going wrong, and his sense of justice did not permit him to avenge their contrariety upon the purely innocent. Now Jack was not purely innocent, and here was an outlet. And then he had been walking about in the avenue for more than an hour waiting, and was naturally sick of it. And, finally, having lost his own temper, he was furious with Jack for not losing his. "Speak out, sir," he cried; "I have done. Not that your speaking can make much difference. I repeat, if you hurt a hair of that child's head- "I will thank you to speak of her in a different way," said Jack, losing patience also. "You may think me a villain if you please; but how dare you venture to suppose that I could bring her to harm? Is she nobody is that all you think of her? By Jove! the young lady you are speaking of, without knowing her," said Jack, suddenly stopping himself, staring at his father with calm fury, and speaking with deadly emphasis, "is going to be-my wife." Mr Brownlow was so utterly confounded that he stood still and stared in his turn at his audacious son. He gave a start as if some one had shot him; and then he stood speechless and stared, won dering blankly if some transformation had occurred, or if this was actually Jack that stood before him. It ought to have been a relief to his mind-no doubt if he had been as good a man as he ought to have been, he would have gone down on his knees and given thanks that his son's intentions were so virtuous; but in the mean time amaze swallowed up every other sentiment. "Your wife!" he said, with the utmost wonder which the human voice is capable of expressing in his voice. The wildest effort of imagination could never have brought him to such an idea-Jack's wife! His consternation was such that it took the strength out of him. He could not have said a word more had it been to save his life. If any one had pushed rudely against him he might have dropped on the ground in the weakness of his amaze. "You might have knocked him down with a feather," was the description old Betty would have given; and she would have been right. "Yes," said Jack, with a certain magnificence; "and as for my power, or any man's power, of harming-her. By Jove-though of course you didn't know—__" This he said magnanimously, being not without pity for the utter downfall which had overtaken his father. Their positions, in fact, had totally changed. It was Mr Brownlow who was struck dumb. Instead of carrying things with a high hand as he had begun to do, it was he who was reduced into the false position. And Jack was on the whole sorry for his father. He took his hands out of the depths of his pockets, and put down his shoulders into their nat ural position. And he was willing "to let down easy," as he himself expressed it, the unlucky father who had made such an astounding mistake. Her As for Mr Brownlow, it took him some time to recover himself. It was not quite easy to realise the position, especially after the warm, not to say violent, way in which he had been beguiled into taking Pamela's part. He had meant every word of what he said. sweet little face had attracted him more than he knew how to explain; it had reminded him, he could not exactly tell of what, of something that belonged to his youth and made his heart soft. And the thought of pain or shame coming |