married my mother's sister; so I went there
first, to see if he could give me a place.
It was ten miles on the other side of the
village where all these things had taken
place. Both he and my aunt received me
very kindly.  I was made under-gardener
and helper to my uncle: it was a good place,
and I lived there for five years. My uncle
was a Scotchman, and he took pains with
my learning; for he was a man of some
education himself. At the end of that
time he went to be head-gardener to Sir
Robert Palmer, and I was promoted by
Squire Munsford to his place. This was
considered a great piece of good luck, and so it
was; but you see, I only cared for one
thing in this world, and that was, to save
money enough to be able to join George
across the water. I went home sometimes to
see my father and mother at the old place.
My brother—I told you I had one—did not
turn out comfortably, and ended by running
away to sea; so I had to help the old
people, which kept me from saving so much
as I might otherwise have done. One time,
when I was down there, I heard a rumour
that George had escaped from the gang of
convicts, and had got clear off along with
two others, after killing the overseer. This
statement had made the round of the
newspapers; yet, Botany Bay was so far off, no
one could rightly tell whether to believe this
or not: but everybody who had known him
wished George well; and, after I had been
gardener it might be about ten years, Madam
Munsford died, and the Squire broke up his
establishment and went to live in another part
of England.

I was left in charge of the place with a
man under me, to keep the grounds in
order; and an old servant was left in the
house. After Squire Munsford's death—which
followed that of his wife in a couple of years—
the place came into the market to be sold;
and the estate was divided into lots, some of
which went with the house, and others separate.
A good many parties came to view the
house; but for some it was too large and for
others too small, and from one cause or other
it remained a couple of years unlet. One
morning as I was mowing the lawn, I saw
a grand travelling carriage stop before
the gate.  A gentleman who was inside
beckoned me to come to him. I went; but
when I reached the window I nearly dropped
down with surprise, for I surely believed it
was George himself I saw before me.

The gentleman took no notice of my looks, but
quietly asked, if he could be shown over the
house?—he had a card to view it. He alighted,
and I walked behind him like a person
in a dream: the more I looked at the stranger
the more perplexed I was with the resemblance.
He was evidently a military man,
and had the mark of a sabre-cut across
his forehead. He addressed me as a perfect
stranger, and asked many questions which I
answered without well knowing what I said.
That George should have become a gentleman
and ride in his carriage was quite likely
enough; but I felt sure that, however grand
he might become, he would never change
towards me. At last he drove away, and
I did not know whether to feel glad or
sorry.

A few days afterwards he returned, accompanied
by a man of business; and, after much
examination of documents, and comparing
of deeds, Major Rutherford (as George's
Double was called), became the owner of the
house and certain lots of land lying around:
a nice compact little property it was.  The
furniture was old-fashioned, and would have
fetched nothing at a sale; but it suited the
house, and was convenient as well as appropriate.
This was taken at a small valuation,
and thus, at a stroke, Major Rutherford took
his place amongst the county gentry. Before
they departed, I was called into the room and
received the offer to become Major Rutherford's
bailiff. The lawyer—who had been
Squire Munsford's man of business—said he
had recommended me; but I did not think
that had anything to do with my appointment.
Ever since I had heard of George's
escape, I had felt unsettled in my grand
purpose; and now, though I could not make the
Major out to my satisfaction, I felt quite
content to stop with him.

If I had expected the Major to be like what
I recollected of George, I was much mistaken:
he was like George certainly; but it was George
possessed by a devil: all the gloomy, moody
discontent, which had overshadowed him in
the latter days of our intercourse, seemed to
be hardened and exaggerated in the Major
into a bitter grinding sense of wrong and
injustice. He had evidently lived a stormy
adventurous life; and, although he had
conquered fortune and position, yet he was
scornful and contemptuous—unthankful
one might say—for all the comforts and
advantages he had won in his battle of life.
It was understood that he was a gentleman by
birth, of good though decayed family; that
he had entered the East India Company's
service when very young, and had won his
promotion by heading more than one forlorn
hope. The means by which he had obtained
his fortune was not exactly known; but men
in those days always made their fortunes in
the East. The neighbouring gentlemen all
called upon him; but his opinions and theirs
clashed at all points: they were all good steady
church and king men, tories of the old school.
The Major had brought home with him startling
political notions about reform in parliament,
and extension of the suffrage, which he
propounded with a reckless audacity that nearly
sent some of his most respectable visitors into
fits of apoplexy. He also took the earliest
opportunity of quarrelling with the rector of
the parish, who was a magistrate as well as a
clergyman; and, in that capacity, had