Produced by Andrew Sly, Barbara Kosker, Stephen Hope and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net [Illustration: THE MUNIMENT ROOM, S. MARY REDCLIFFE.] Bristol Bells _A STORY OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY_ BY EMMA MARSHALL AUTHOR OF 'BRISTOL DIAMONDS,' 'THE TOWER ON THE CLIFF,' 'HER SEASON IN BATH,' ETC. The budding floweret blushes at the light, The meads are dappled with the yellow hue, In daisied mantle is the mountain dight, The tender cowslip bendeth with the dew. CHATTERTON. LONDON SEELEY AND CO. LIMITED ESSEX STREET, STRAND 1892 _PREFACE_ The incidents in the life of Thomas Chatterton which are introduced into this story are gathered chiefly from Mr Masson's exhaustive essay and a biography of the poet by Mr Chatterton Dix. In these books full details may be found of the pathetic life, misdirected genius, and tragic death of the boy poet. Several citizens of Bristol, who are connected with his sad history, appear in the following tale; the other characters are wholly imaginary. WOODSIDE LEIGH WOODS, CLIFTON, _February 1892._ _CONTENTS._ CHAP. PAGE I. LONGING FOR FLIGHT, 1 II. THE SQUIRE, 13 III. AN ELEGY, 28 IV. THE LETTER DELIVERED, 39 V. THE ORCHARD GATE, 48 VI. THE SYMPATHY OF POVERTY, 58 VII. CONSULTATION, 68 VIII. THE SONGS OF ROWLEY THE PRIEST, 77 IX. THE POET'S FRIENDS, 87 X. A LONG RESPITE, 99 XI. CHRISTMAS AT THE FARM, 109 XII. THE FINAL BLOW, 118 XIII. AN UNSUCCESSFUL SUIT, 128 XIV. ON THE HILLSIDE, 137 XV. THE LAST EVENING, 152 XVI. FORGIVENESS, 164 XVII. THE LAST, 176 Bristol Bells CHAPTER I LONGING FOR FLIGHT. 'Grandfather! I want to speak to you; please listen.' 'Well, who said I would not listen? But speak up, Biddy.' The old man put his hand to his ear, and his granddaughter leaned over the back of his chair. 'Don't call me Biddy, grandfather. I am Bryda.' 'Bryda! Phew! Your poor mother was called Biddy, and you ain't better than she was that I know of.' 'Well, never mind; but this is what I want to say, and Betty is quite of my mind. Do let me go to Bristol. Jack Henderson heard old Mrs Lambert say she would like a bright, sharp girl to help her in the house, and I am bright and sharp, grandfather!' 'I daresay, and make you a drudge!' 'No; I shouldn't be a drudge. I should be treated well, and you know Mrs Lambert is a relation.'