The Channings | Page 8

styled, Hamish.

He rose six foot two in his stockings, was well made, and upright. In
grace and strength of frame the Yorkes and the Channings stood A1 in
Helstonleigh.
"Now, then! What are you two concocting? Is he coming over you
again to let him make more toffy, Judy, and burn out the bottom of
another saucepan?"
"Hamish, Judy says there's bad news come in by the London post. I am
afraid the Lord Chancellor has given judgment--given it against us."
The careless smile, the half-mocking, expression left the lips of Hamish.
He glanced from Judith to Charles, from Charles to Judith. "Is it sure?"
he breathed.
"It's sure that it's awful news of some sort," returned Judith; "and the
mistress said to me that all was over now. They be all in there, but you
two," pointing with her finger to the parlour on the left of the hall; "and
you had better go in to them. Master Hamish--"
"Well?" returned Hamish, in a tone of abstraction.
"You must every one of you just make the best of it, and comfort the
poor master. You are young and strong; while he--you know what he is.
You, in special, Master Hamish, for you're the eldest born, and were the
first of 'em that I ever nursed upon my knee."
"Of course--of course," he hastily replied. "But, oh, Judith! you don't
know half the ill this must bring upon us! Come along, Charley; let us
hear the worst."
Laying his arm with an affectionate gesture round the boy's neck,
Hamish drew him towards the parlour. It was a square, light, cheerful
room. Not the best room: that was on the other side the hall. On a sofa,
underneath the window, reclined Mr. Channing, his head and shoulders
partly raised by cushions. His illness had continued long, and now, it
was feared, had become chronic. A remarkably fine specimen of
manhood he must have been in his day, his countenance one of
thoughtful goodness, pleasant to look upon. Arthur, the second son, had
inherited its thoughtfulness, its expression of goodness; James, its
beauty; but there was a great likeness between all the four sons. Arthur,
only nineteen, was nearly as tall as his brother. He stood bending over
the arm of his father's sofa. Tom, looking very blank and cross, sat at
the table, his elbows leaning on it. Mrs. Channing's pale, sweet face
was bent towards her daughter's, Constance, a graceful girl of one and

twenty; and Annabel, a troublesome young lady of nearly fourteen, was
surreptitiously giving twitches to Tom's hair.
Arthur moved from the place next his father when Hamish entered, as if
yielding him the right to stand there. A more united family it would be
impossible to find. The brothers and sisters loved each other dearly,
and Hamish they almost reverenced--excepting Annabel. Plenty of love
the child possessed; but of reverence, little. With his gay good humour,
and his indulgent, merry-hearted spirit, Hamish Channing was one to
earn love as his right, somewhat thoughtless though he was.
Thoroughly well, in the highest sense of the term, had the Channings
been reared. Not of their own wisdom had Mr. and Mrs. Channing
trained their children.
"What's the matter, sir?" asked Hamish, smoothing his brow, and
suffering the hopeful smile to return to his lips. "Judith says some
outrageous luck has arrived; come express, by post."
"Joke while you may, Hamish," interposed Mrs. Channing, in a low
voice; "I shrink from telling it you. Can you not guess the news?"
Hamish looked round at each, individually, with his sunny smile, and
then let it rest upon his mother. "The very worst I can guess is not so
bad. We are all here in our accustomed health. Had we sent Annabel up
in that new balloon they are advertising, I might fancy it had capsized
with her--as it will some day. Annabel, never you be persuaded to
mount the air in that fashion."
"Hamish! Hamish!" gently reproved Mrs. Channing. But perhaps she
discerned the motive which actuated him. Annabel clapped her hands.
She would have thought it great fun to go up in a balloon.
"Well, mother, the worst tidings that the whole world could bring upon
us cannot, I say, be very dreadful, while we can discuss them as we are
doing now," said Hamish. "I suppose the Lord Chancellor has
pronounced against us?"
"Irrevocably. The suit is for ever at an end, and we have lost it."
"Hamish is right," interrupted Mr. Channing. "When the letter arrived, I
was for a short time overwhelmed. But I begin to see it already in a less
desponding light; and by to-morrow I dare say I shall be cheerful over
it. One blessed thing--children, I say advisedly, a 'blessed' thing--the
worry will