UNKNOWN

Mataura Ensign, 29 January 1892, Page 1

UNKNOWN

BETTANY, HP^b^Sbt'b tTwo '< itßaaoxKß," nia, ■"Bit LtI.—ADAY OP- Mistakes'. n. Bitlenian ytho overtook, Keziah aiic ■pan in a measured voice of suppresses iF, I have done as you told me. I hav< I you till the time is up. It has XC*" jbut I have obeyed you." B and trambled, but did no! ■^"^^ \ piteously at her companion, she said, wearily — PP^ou come to me ? I am not wortjh vA I^ha a'heen frozen up and no Iponie,./I,!)avi no right to any happifcid Ma?" " how are you to thaw, if ■Hr ; ' sun shine on you ? I tell HKi^tluJLj to have done with this The way you have kept Dr. El these two years, is, in my a mistake as the other one. HHid of sense in it. Of course, you and have. Ihnch with us, Dr. |^^Hy good, Mrs. Towers," replied will come.'' And without any Kezieh's little black-gloved ; and they walked quietly on. said, painfully, "I don't think flHru rightly. It sounds as if after H^K up for your sake, and after all BHA«jKounds~6h, heavens, 1 can I^B^nHHit sounds as if you meant |^^^^BA^h> bitterly, " I am not thought me free; I have a sin to B^^^^^^t you have let me alone? : kinder and better H^^^^HB only this one thing left " Perhap3 I can a^ teen a bettor ■H^H^^B. at all —for that waa ■BBBBBj' w —my husband might HBBBBBL*' to death." her old lover, with H^H^H^Pro, in his tone, and with ■H^^^^H^t away from her, "it only one person you of, and treated unand separation, cold apathy. |^^^^H^^W7ould it make no to tell you that my nave Pra yec^ that j^^H^Hj^Hu^^— *' out that is change, and that world's any feelcase, I need Hj^HH^^^Ri cannot matter to 6 Dest years of my i care more about H^^HHa anything I may HSHHb^^H tbe living to serve L"eziah, I am not I am compelled BH^^^H^Bvc nanhood in frozen BBJBjH^B^bI will try to follow B^H^BB^Hi easier process than ■■NHJ^BJHlhuiiy now, though IHBjHHHK 10. lg time in taking BBb^HBJV^ Keziah'B away. H^^B^B ? of this, Kizzy ?" deHJ^HHHHLinto tbe room, and B^HHH^BKkP rl almost angrily. j^H^^^H^^Bft &ob, Pitiable neither pity nor HBHR^Hare done somegone off ■j^^^HHj^^^H^ it' is, Keziah, ■^^^^^^^H^^Hiring a man's seem to think I^H^B^H^^^B^e back again, m^^^^^^^m^anything about H^^H^HHbPso unkind to me," 3. " What would j^^^^^^HF'- - him ? Besides, I >y> Tou ought to that you've never |B^|^^n^w <n at all to mind I^^^^H^B id fancy you talking There was a time, we laughed such an had walked IUUn 9r >n9 straight to Wm^^^BßWin^ i and There eveningi HH^^^HHHib.; startle"! a wilA £eiU' 9d aoj.. me. j^^^H^^Hj^^^^^^H^V is quite. have lid you, for a [^H^^H^^^^^^^B^BL own her. ■^■^^^■■nl^^H^^B ie^» Hj^^HßflHHH^Bj^^^K'^ 011 H^^^m^^^^^^^^^H^Rvident won't Lucy 1 t you ? ■BHH^^HfwclPlt. But"— H^H^H^^^Hnd hxtted at the HflH^^HHH;st have some rest fl^^^^HHßß cud it some way ; on me, I think I clear enough. H^^B^HB^ c, and try to make HHHHBB[ od and so gentle; I HHBH^^.yone can." HB^^^iu " re Pne^ ne s' r'> m^^HUt'v b loved'you. I may HH^^H- and found Gerald i patient. So he sat H^H^BB;7. wrote the following -I nave taken the the lesson you set > succeed well. Miss H^H^HULU marry me. Your Hj^l^^^Btt the womanly geneIH^^fll^HHthe dregs of a cup BHIHrU Well > all tba' t i 3 HHfHH^^HBy ,you possess in your friend as ■^h^H^^^R had things been HH^^^^^^^BMrs. Towers, and I would apoloB^^Hl^BHw 7'nS ncr without a Bfl^^H^^^n,. we explained, and proud .to Have so H^m^^^^HMer friend, whose H^|HH^^H <?es my feeble comB^^^^^^^B&i6 myself now with aad something |^|B^^H^^Bp man wants BH^^^^^BA '~i'\ remain, yours ELWORTHY." H^^^^^^^^K, and moodily sat H^HHH^^Hw*>gar. At length |^^^H|^HH^V> re, so much so H^^^^^^^^^H^U loor at a late WB^^^^^B^^&f of sharpness, ing Harwyn HHHIB^^^Hb: ' mer or te. r > H^^^^BHj^^K .ppeared very HBH^^^^^Vv of the narraH^^^^H^^HB« " tmgagement ■BH^l^^H^HßfAAimerd -r I^^^BHH^HL' ctedlikeai.r-i H^^^^^^^HpT.ip^r are alFiys |H^H^^^H^Hb' 4V6- dissjstroua fl^^Hl^H^BHp.' >Majud wo old H^^^HH^^^^Br.;. vrjpha would. J-'Beredith by circum|^B^^HHfl^H^^H;oinpanioQ, in "yqn don't laoan to H^HHfl^H^BH^ .aaob in ita£ H^BIH^HL' ihave- —" W^^^^^KBm ' o^i».excitedly, &L,o,hapter i wc IH^^^HHl^Hr^^^ 1^ you asi ■■^HK you arc ■■■H^^^^BSL "a.-you know ii ■I^^H^^Br the >fact, thai H^^B^^HBRi/' »oto»*ng to dc

|] |)jtelcjrjE4} nothing at- oil? „ Y<tu.'li*vo used on i- >.^Siaan'B losb for voaHo ,stajb, atiotlier, whor \. ■f&alove. iJoyou pai| that^miinly^, ,A call i » cowardly, why should punish Luc because you are angry with J^iab ?",• ; , % ,** You've been a very truefrieridtonic," wa the reply, after a few seconds, in a low voic-; ,"■1 kuow.l deserve what ypu'ye heeu' aayiuo! "every wo.ird of it. Bui.- Harwyn, har mau4 c ' drove iaa bsside niyHelf ." „ - " You must go to-morrow, and tell Liicy/ih , whole fatuth. Not a. .part, mmd but th> } Whole." * ' . „' - H j ♦'And if Ido that, wha a eur'Xshall iwf and I should 'forfeit" her mother's friendship which I value so? highly." J ' J Well, I think I'll gr, to bedi" said El worthy : , and he went away with a slow aud, wearj stop. ' VV'iieu he was gone, young Harwyn sat dowr and wrote a long letter to his sister," in which hi ( pleaded eloquently for his friend. " ; ' CHAPTER Ltll.— Dkoision- and Indeoision, . On the Monday morning'fcllowihg, Elworthj ; was summoned to Stone Court ; but on his waj | back he planned to call at the Berediths'. He ■ was quite resolved to follow Gerald Harwyn's , advice, and tell Lucy the whoktL'uth. „' ; .' He heard a creaking of the door but did not look round. But he saw in. the mirror the reflection of a shy figure dressed in brown 1 , with a pretty iiush on the cheeks, , coming into the room. He turned round ; how could he do ; otherwise ? . , The shy figure glided to wards him, and put out two little hands, with snowy white frills round the wrists, confidingly and calmly, while she looked at him with glad eyes, and lip's ! quivering with a smile, x Ho took the hands in his; th&t was not to be avoided. And_now came his task. " You have made a bad bargain, Lucy— in taking me, I mean. It has not gone far. 1 . Don't you think you had better reconsider it?" \ , "It is not v bad bargain if I do not think ij; one," Lucy said, " lo- cannot be a bad .bur^iQ that makes me so happy." :—---"' vi He dropped her hands now, and said to he^ in a' voice that sounded choked, " I have a patient to see now, Lucy, and must go." She made no remonstrance at his cutting the inverview so short. She felt no distrust of him. Lau.ia Saltring had come into the room, and Mrs. Beredith said to her, ".So our Lucy will, perhaps be married before you, Laura, ai'ter all." " She will have to be quick about it then," retorted Laura, pertly. "Thenit eau't be young Eimmon you are going to marry," she remarked, rather sharply. Laura laughed lightly. "And why should it not be?" she asked. . , "Because he's a more boy." returned Mrs. Beredith, with no smile on her face now ; and because ho has no position)" This annoyed Laura, who could have told more than she chose to tell. So she said spitefully, " I don't see why anyone need trouble about me and my marriage. Jubal Rimmon is the property of no othor wotcan, I suspect." Lucy and her moth&r both winced under this remark. They understood it. " Aud do you think," brokeoutMrs.Baredith, with little discretion. " that Lucy is going to marry the property of another woman ':" " If she's going to marry Dr. Elworthy, I certainly think so," said Laura. " That's a very unkind remark," said Lucy. " You seem to know a great deal about it," said Mrg. Beredith, aSectmga sneer. "Perhaps you can tell us what we ought to have done." " Well," said Laura, " since you aaked me, I think you might have waited to seu whether Dr. Elworthy*a purpose was fixed, or, which is far the most likely, whether he hod merely acted under vexation that Keziab. wouldn't many him to-morrow. In that case, you may depend " he didn't meao to be accepted." " Miss Saltring," said Mrs. Beredith, severely, "we have borne, a good deal from you since you have been with us, iv one way or another; bat you have gone a little too far this time." " I am very sorry to do it," went on Mrs. Beredith, " but I must vequest you to go home to your father, as 3oon as may be ; and I will communicate with him." Now this was a very real shock to Laura, wha had never before seen such a result follow her plain speaking. Laura had credited Mrs. Beredith with the faculty, learnt in trade, of not getting vexed with people, whatever the provocation might be; so she started at Mrs. Beredith' a white face, 1 and wondered if she had heard aright. \ CHAPTER Liy.— MACELXisE's Story. ♦'Well," said Miaj Saltring, marching into her father's dining-room on her arrival from Leamington, " you appear to be pretty jolly on the whole." So'sayixig, she sat down and began to unloose her thirds, and requested that . a servant might como^id take her boota off. "Audsoyou are an estate agent now, are yon, papa? What a droll thing I*' i"I am two or three things,"" replied Mr. Saltring. "And I don't find it at all droll. It goes along very well indeed. ,1 shall make something by my grapes, and vegetables, and fruit generally, next summer, I hope. The door being pushed open at lifts moment, a very lovely boy of about five years came timidly in, and looked shyly at the stranger. " Come, Eertie," said Mrs. Saltring. He went to her, but kept his eyef all the time on the stranger. , " So that's the child they saddled you with," said Laura, "is it? I should tb'ak Keziah might have had him batk now." : - < " Once more you are at fault, Lat •a," repliad her father." "Keziah would hay \ gladly had him back, but we would not give J ]f iitn up, he had grown so dear to us all. Mad/.'ina would have broken her heart, I believe." "Why, the child's the very imagi of her," said Laura, staring at him. Mr. Saltring thought in a despvrring way, " What have I done to have such a i au^hter ?" He would doubtless have gone o thinking sadly for some time had jiot s. caller aterruptod him : it was Mr. Rockingham. ..( *'I had a dear 3ister once, Saltrir^." Mr. Saltring's interest immediately shower itself in hiß face. " She was like nobody in tHe family, and she didn't get on quite well with her mother and the re3t of them. So thevfjvll found it convenient for her to go und studr; aausic in Germany ; for she had a talent for t? ";sic, and a wonderful voice. Well," said the c<' rgyman with a pause, " she never came back,' 1 : "She died?" put in M:\ SaltringN interrogatively. ■ "No," said the clDrgyman, scarcely .above a whisper, "it was worse than that. Sk* eloped. It was a bad man she went away wit:*. And though so many years have passed, I hi; ye been making an endless and fruitless search ': or her. "I believe I have found her child." " Where ?" asked Mr. Saltring, with wreathless interest. "My good friend," said the cleriij-man, laying both bis hands on Mi 1 . Si shoulders, " in your hou.'je." " If.it is not tru(i, 'if lam labouring v; dor a delusion, why is she' the living image ti] her? Why does she aing /wsong3, in just her tone? Why has she got jast her trick of closii \i her eyes slowly, and darting them opeu, tiif you feel it like a spell ? I u&ver saw but one girl do like that just as she does it. Her eyelids droop till she appnar3 half-dreaming, auftthen suddenly lift themselves all fire upon you :f "I want to as.k you, can you thro'v any light, Saltring ? Where does Bhe come Aoni? She has surely told you." \ " I have never asked her," replied Mr/kaltring huskily. "We none of us have. It would be like nol trusting her. ' ' "Will you ask her where she got the little prayer-book she, uaea? I have tried t) get it into my hands when . she called after service at the Vicarage ; but she always X.olds it tightly. She jieverputs it down to lobkat anything." Mr. Saltring t<>ok care that Laura should not meet Madeline on her return, which was rather later than usual that evening; but Laura saw her come, heard her mother go to meet her, and the two went immediately into the little sitting-room upstairs, which was the sauctum of the establishment. "My dear Madeline," Mra. Saltring was saying, " you Know me too well to doubt my love for you now; and if £ ask you any questions that may look like mistrust of you, I beg of you not to take it in that way. lam isure no motive such as curiosity or mistrust could have ever given me the courage to ask you what lam gofcg to ask. Indeed, it is harden for me than yoa can think." WSelta snal)> I begin ?" she cried shutting her little handii tightly, and looking away from her friend. ■: . . . ■' • ' . "Whpse v the prayer-book you use at Church f" . The girl started. "My mother's," she said ; "my poor mother's." . ... _ "And wlio was your mother, my' pool obiid?" !. .... . ': r • :".I .do'n'il know,' 1 said Madeline". •«« Si^ would hevef let me know that. She said sh? couldn't hj^e oho of the oldest n^mes in England.:tiraa^d in the dirt ; that is all I know." She. told); sac to starve rather than live the life, thai- Jlay ; before me where I was— thai was all ; that was not cruel. It was after hei nu3band"ioiilef|her.^ . . •» I Mmeuibermy mother and fitherquarrel ling when they "Came home from the concert hall, Thatwaa^benl was quita little." : - ' " What did they quarrel ab-ut ?" Mrs. Salt rinx inquiced, hoping to gat soma clue, ,, . , « Oh, diEEerent things f about otliei women •^ , C } * '..'•■/':,'■. i •■

i and other meivand. ali>oi/ A faiher's. .going to n America, and epondingrall *4° pip*' lß >; n " i tlien he w;ent to Amer.^a again, and never y -came back? Then" poor mamma, was taken up. ' W the proprietor of the concert-hall, and he ra pretended to marry liet : but of course ha . coulda l fc marry her, w"<* n he didn't kuow. !, whetli'er her husband wtototl or not.-. I. was i brought out there afterwards"; Then my new father, as he made raei il ' him, used to drink 0 and gamble ; and he got ntb debt, and alt Our c things were sold; and a young _toedical 4udent lent him money.,*,./' Here, her - voic> faltered a good deal ; but she went , dospr.-ately on. "He -was thereon, a holi4aJ''* ' " ■ - ; "'Where was it, dear / " AtiJadeu, that was. He seemed to have plenty of money ; an.l he said.if he could marry 1 me, he would set father on his feet. Father 3 raved and insisted, in spite of my_ youth ; and I couldn't eee'poor . mamma so miserable ; how .could.!? And I thought if I married him^ it . . wouldatleastmakoitbetterforher; so I married l _, him. And it was not until after my, baby was A /.born that I found out it had aIL been a decep--3 .tion;';i T had notbesu married at all, and my 3 father knew it at the time. They took my baby away: I don't khpw^-afhat.was done with it. I k' have ever sines. j s AuatHe^irl, hayua^iojl'dih^r story, laid her ; , head on -Mrs, . and ' wept ■ i . aloud. 'The little J ,'pra.yer-iMok', fell from her i lap, and the cover Opened, and in it was plainly legible, " O;lJ. K a gift from lie^br other." i CHAPTER LV.—icnrsFOLK. 1 At 11 ' o'clock the .same evening, when Mr. i. Saltring entered rue vicar's' study, ; he found • him at his table, with .his books spread out, ', and his shaded reading-lamp lighting the table only. ' ..._ - ■ ,' "Now, tell me this,* arid Mr. Rockingham, ■ when he had hoard it all with an overwhelming , eagerness iv.his facet' "Has she any idea why '>. .she waia9k"ed<these questions ?" ■ "" "Not the least in the world. And now this . :is all settled so far, what shall Ido next ?" i,:.. 'The 1 , next morning saw Madeline and the ■" ''clergyman walking briskly along a country 1 road.': Madeline was unusually quiet after her coufes'sion of the night before.' "My. dear,'* began the clergyman gontly, when they had entered a' little w00d,." I want you to look. at this portrait, ard tell me if you ever saw, anyone like it." And he took from , liis pocket with a trembling hand a portrait painted oniyory of a very lovely girl. She blushed slightly as she looked at it, and her first thought was how like it was to the reflection tkat greeted her every inorniug at her mirror. Then her face turned very white as she looked further, audiiei\ lips parted, and she cried with a terror.-strikan look, "She's got that locket on !'» ' ,' " Madeline, she was my sister; she was my sister. Now answer me, have Ino right at all to ask you any question ?" "I don't think I quite understand"," she said, brokenly. " I can't collect myself. Let me think." " Did you over see the inside of a locket like that in the picture ?" " Yes," responded the girl, in a far-away voice, as if in a dream. " She always wore it. . * * " Her brother' 3 likeness wa3 in "it." He gave a great sob. ■" Oh, my child," he said, " look at- me. Am I nothing like that portrait?" She shook her head slowly from aide to side. " No, nothing at all like him. He was— handsome," she said, witb ablush. •• Ah," he returned, with a strange laugti, " and I am not \ that is what you mean. Well, it is quite true ; I know that. My hair was black and curly once, and my face had not all theße furrows. . " Should you know your mother's writing ?" " Oh, yes, quite well ; it ,was like no one elae's." " I know that." He drew from his pocket a packet of old letters. She uttered a little cry. There was no doubt about it. It was, indeed, her mother's writing. She recognised it before the packet was in her hand, and while the writing was upsido down before her. She trembled all over like an aspen, and waited for him to say something. " O my darling," hesaid, " will you not go and look for her with me f " " Oh !" she said, in an accent of fear, " 1 must not do it. It would kill her, even if she atill lives. She often said she was dead to you, to you all. Once," cried the girl, in a sudden access of energy, "she said she saw you; it was Baden. She was staging, and she said she Bawyouiuthe audience, and she had to be carried out. Were you there then, in ?" The clergyman leaned against a tree for suppott. " I was there, and I remember it weil. But that could not have been . . . she. 0 God, it is too cruel. I will find her," he cried. "Go with me to Baden. Let us start to-morrow," The girl looked with horror in her face- " They may have gone from there ; they must have gone," she said. "My mother always said she should take her opportuuity of going to search for her husband, too, and live honestly, if possible." He winced at her words. They became conscious, too, that somebody was coming towards them through the wood, lightly singing an air from an bpera. The clergyman was angry at the interruption ; nothing more. But the girl, her eyes strained larger than evfcr, stared at the approaching figure with an accumulated horror in her face, not to' be described in words.; then, without turning her eyes away, ehe fluug herself into the arms of her now-found protector. " O Jupiter," he cried, " and tan thoußand thunders, here is the other of them. Oh Oicl> this is too embarrassing, quite too embarrassing indeed." Ho returned to his old manner, and, smiling, 3aid to the shrinking girl, " Why did you not look for me and find me, too ? I would have been fond of you, for you are young and beautiful, and would fill my hall. " Don't come near her," cried the clergyman, clenching his fist. " lou will have to give proof you are her father, before I shall let her approach you. Who are you, and what is your name? Your name is villain, whatever your other name is." The stranger drew from his pocket, first a cigarette case, and then a card case, upon which was priuted : — JEuffhic I'dbois. Mr. Roclringham palad still more. It was the name he knew too well as that of his sister's husband. "What have you done with my sister?" he cried out, seizing the foreigner somewhere between his cravat, collar, and shirt. "My dear air," was the conjurer's reply, " can you not address me without disarranging so much cravat ? Which of them is your sister? I beg your pardon." "This girl's moth&r, you fiend in human form. By heaven, had 1 another coat on, I'd thrash you within an inch of your life, you. cur Where is my sister, I say ?" t( Are you going to ba reasonable," he said to the foreigner, li and take us at once where ray sister is?" " That cannot be done in five minuteß, even by conjuring," replied he, still smiling. " She is in Manchester, where I have taken a hail, it is some weeks." The clergyman was silent a moment or two. meditating what to do. "Yes," he said at length, " we will go nowstraight to the atation, asyousuggeßt." CHAPTER LVI — Death-sbingiaVG Joy. The United Arts Hotel, Manchester, was next door to the Folly Theatre, and was patronised greatly by theatrical personages. It was there that the Springwooda were usually entertained by their friends ; in fact, they 1 almost lived at the United Art 3 during their Beasou. At about three o'clock in the afternoon re- ; f erred to in the last chapter, a cab stopped in 1 front of the United Arts, where several young gentlemen, among whom ' was Jubal Ritnmon, stood lounging, about the door. Jubal was not i the only member of the party who started with . surprise on seeing Mr. Rockinghmh alight. Winterfold, who was of the parfcv, appeared to i be much struck, and pulling Denleigh by the sleeve, he whispered, "Deuce take it if that, isn't Rockinghani.*' "Some one you know, then?" said i Denleigh. I " I should rather think bo," was the reply. . " Comes to our house far too often. I vote we i make tracks instantly. He'Jl be coming and speaking to us." . In the meantime the three who had given i rise to this discussion had ' gone into Monsieur Pelbois' apartments, which *w'efe handsome ; "enough. It had been arranged during .the journey that the foreigner should, prepare his wife to receive her visitors, ia order to avgd. shock. It had . lieea eagg^sted 'that Made- ?; line should go first and sw h'erCifa^ther;, and, ; Jfoatshe. Bhpuld,break.the,newß of Ker'brpriißrV jC- being"- there to Her, " T&rfifor^.'t^fey" ware" y -utterly unprepared for the wan apparitiou; that . ■ !now appeared m' I the\3bbrway without 'wariiing^and framed itself theroi looking, looking; i not at Madelineybat at. her brother "-. ~' v -". -' : t For a long time, as it appeared, they stood so, t neither ad vahcirig, neither speaking. It was not until the figure in the doorway began to - Bwa.ygentlythat.the clergyman seemed to gain :. ■th.e^pgjrer of . ' A single move-; '" nienjMJrought him to her side. Hiaarma were -" rj^iod'her, clutching her, gtoating'over i4r^ ;. '< ttwr lff© .seenfed'- to ' m? ; wtb£ijfci«p'.»t|ttfti i"- m^obtifttoa(i;forwhoca4iaM^D»bsrtiMij«? ; "-•'' " v ' ; "'.'- ■- '■ ■ '^'^^^^Jr^

i I iyi i ■ ii i ii. i 1 ■ ■ ; . . ' . ... .. j /. love lives or ie dead, if the hands meet ? Wher* words and looks fail,.pontacfc asserts.. A glat •16ok> came into her eyes. : He was • going 'ti kisa her. She freed herself in a- moment, -anc taking a handkerchief from 'the p6cket :^f 4^ dressing-gown sWe ! wa9 wearing, Bhe: 1 praaaeS the false bloom from the cheek ne~wat^^B ; and offered it silently. ■' '■; : " ' He kksed her as if he would:'.never leave, off. and half carrying her. seated her; with^ nine { upon a couch. „" | • >■; "^ \, ,-\ She .did hot answer him. .'•:" stiU-resti^c on ni8 v ahouider. He"waited a .few liiotne^w, and then put tl»e~ question to her agala..^£tt was loath to disturb her,' so be restedljbis owe head against hers as it lay on his ishpujde^ ' aafi again waited. He started up. Madeline had givec a shriek; and had flown towards rtheiri>;. : . He looked first at her, and then, at the drooping head that lay against him. . .V ''„,.. -sTT.'-r.:" "Bring some water ; she's fainting, cried the clergyman to the husband,'who; wa!s actiitg"the part of a statue. He seized one of 'his : blmot's hands, and MadeKne tho other, ahd'theyrlibbsd them between theirown. But as; thejr jcobbed the hands stiffened within theirs. , ",-;"'• ,-/■' She had died with her head pillowea oil that bosom, and with his arm about hen And let us hopo that haappier life than she had imagined wae hersi, ": ] ■■".'• CHAPTER LTll.— Keziah's MAt-lJi*^.', Never had a brighter May-day shone than the one that followed the tragedy we have described. Maud Towers and her friend Keziah, opened ii; by going out before breakfast. -■ ■- " What are you thinking about?" asSea Maud of Keziab, when they had walked along in silence for some time. \ " I was thinking how strange it is that Jubal is to be married to day, and that I should Jaaye no part in it of any kind." >^^. r 'r . " Well, you never expected to have afij part in it!" ' • '■"..■-' \ "Oh, no,' not for a long, long time. But ours does seem to be such an ill-aasorted house." ■ , ■ •">'.>.' • Their walk had been at so early ah hour that the post did not come till breakfast was nearly over. It brought a letter from Gerald, which ran aa follows :-r- --'* My Dear Sister,— l never felt bo fixed in my life. I don't know whom to be angry with. I would give anything to find someone to kick. Among them they have got Elworthy to fix the marriage day. And I tell you he'll do it. ■He's working himself up till he'll be ill — I hope he will— before the day. That would give us time to look around again. What a fool be waß ! But, there, a heart of stone might pity him, to see him. Have you no plan to suggest ? There are so many sides to the question. Miss Beredith herself is a good girl, and so unselfish—in fact, so true a woman in my opinion — I feel myself a brute to be planning and scheming what will be such a disaster in her eyes. It ought never to have come about at all. Oh, if people weren't such asses ! I often think that it's all humbug when people talk about having gone in the dark, and so fallen . into trouble. It seems to me there' 3 morerlight in the world than these tools canheaor, so they shut their eyes, and walk like that. I don't know, whether you'd better tell her or not. I do wish you could Buggest something, for I firmly believe— and mind you I'm not joking— that tllworthy will make short work of himself, if it comes to it." Whatever was meant by the last observation, there the letter ended, unfinished, as if something had interrupted the writer. Maud decided that she would show the letter to Koziah. She could not take the responsibility of keeping it from her. Keziah took it all iv, and then, without a single comment upon it, but with a face full of some strong resolve, she said, " Come let us see what we will wear this evening," and assumed a gaiety of bearing which struck a cold chill to her friend's heart. When they reached The Chestnuts, Keziah Baid, * l I will go in with my uncle a short time, if you don't mind, Maud." David would not ask Maud to come in, so she went iuto her own house, while Keziah and her uncle were left alone. " But now, uncle David, I want to ask you to do me a favour." If I want to go somewhere all in a hurry, will you go with me ? Will you manage it uomohow ?" " You know I. will do anything for you." "Then I shall count ou you," said Keziah, rising. CHAPTER LVlll.— Joshua's Joke. " Before Hackbit died,»' Mr. Rimpler observed to Mr. Rimmon, one day when they wsre alone together, " he had almost resolved, I believe, to found a family, and if he had kept away from drink, he could have done it. Now, you don't drink." " No, I don't drink," echoed Joshua, looking in au expressionless way at Rimpler, and wondering wliat he was driving at. '• Wall, '■don't you know by this time," went on Mr, I-iimpler, "that money can do any mortal thiug r 1 !"ioiuf> fools accumulate their mou?,y till thoy'ro up to the neck iv it; and they die, aud ii all goes to some oue else. My theory is, tUo man's a fool who does that. Let mo. Lave ouough monny at my back to lost me out as many years as I can live, and I'll answer for it, tto'day I die shall see the last halfpenny jpeut, if it bad to be for a soft pillow, bought at the last moment, to die' ou. Now, you can form a fair estimate of how long you've to live ; and you know, and I know,, that you could live lii;e a lord for tho remainder of your days. GoiA attracta gold as surely as a magnet does a imnle. Without any. hmnbug, you're a very rich .nan. Theu why not H*6 like oue, and enjoy yourself? And," aaiil he, with a smile with a! good deal of fuu iv it, ", you can build a chape lii' you like: that will\keep up appearances. \ They'll mako you a magistrate, and return you- to Parliament yet." % "It'loajn'fcri'Mlly seem," Mr. Rimmon\Baid solemnly, "as iV \">.in angry with mo, after all, or else how V Jt ;!:11 ray speculations have succeeded so weli\ ? Look at the times have doubled the. mnluey I have put iv, at a stroke." ' ) , • "Now's the time to 1 drop fipecalatrng," rejoined Rimplor, ignoriuK the former part of the sentence. " LeaC-o oft w\th.youv pocket full, or you may find your fortune change air of a I sudden, and then whero artXyou ." " Well," returned Mr.-Ki&imoji, il it shall be out of the spcculattou moi»b)c. 1 Bu 'ld the grandest chapel in the CWuV£ ; ° n » «"d we'll arrange about buying the'-grSjund at oace. "But that is the wtnw; c'oncej\« ! jA ter a IV* resumed Rimpler. " i'oii ! must'fcy'A-. j ouraeu a house ; a mansion, sir, a mansion. V < «lflbuildahouae,"w(j).fc on MTlk 'Rimmon grandly, rising to the occasion. " it shalß be euoh a house as there's not for nv.les round. \ T. hitve in my mind's eye a picture of what it be." \ "We will go up to liOndon, Rimpler, buy the furniture. ... I shall buy th« beat thureVs to be had, and give the best price." i « * * ' * s. * i So., it fell out that Mr 3, Rimraon was in the act of laboriously darning a hole at the co'ener of one of the horsehair chairs,'- when SaTah an - nouueed in appalling accents that a lot of mcv had " come for the furniture," they said- " What furniture ?" asked Mrsi Rimmon. One of the men. after the manner of the Black Country, had followed the maid, and now advancing, said— , <i* We've horders to move heverythuig." "There must be some mistake," < Mrs. Rimmon replied, in her own mind dreading lest by some unaccountable means they had been suddenly ruined. The . man pushed a paper towards her; " This is the horder," he said. • The hist room thoy eutered was the spare bedroom. The bedstead iv this room was of a ponderous description*, aud required a considerable amount of taking down. It happened that the first two waggons passed down the High street of Jumley before this was completed. As they passed with their ireight, Miss Dorcas Rimmon waa in the act of displaying her latest millinery triumph in her window ; and she, . hearing a considerable rumble, looked out just as they were passing.' Her astonishment may be imagined. Joshua's furniture could not be mistaken. What could this mean V" In a wild state of alarm Miss Dorcaa sallied forth, in a space of time so small that it did her great credit. " What's the meaning of this, Ann's 1 " asked Miss Dorcas from the other side of the barrier! " I'm sure I know.nothiog about it," replied Mrs. Rimmoni beginning to cry. " I suppose it's Joshua's doings." - .' " Where is Joshua f" inquired Dorcaa of her sister-in-law. ••'•;- --"I don't know. Ineyerdp know," replied Mrs. Rimmon. ' "Zwinji tied come home 'now. I haven't wished toa* tfeismany a day/.':i ' / •.. Mrs., Eimiifon ■Mjjbet.- trQuble-.|prgot .^heraeli soon madd awaM bldhcfcofc.v- v^.i'&v^vy^Jv''- ■ •: J f *' V.ia'> i^M*w,piß^!mf: wifi^irfiaiSi • Mrs. Rimmon ;•',? .fiadt-ft ',jdoe9'.;«aem '-hard-' -to ■ tot A,i^tn4ia,fto end ; siiry y ,dayß in, a foreign land, that it (ipea, ~ihihk .to laj ■my bon^%b4e Ued. I'q; BUIO they'd: ahsf.: i^t to- forw^nr ear^-'Wttl idrfiign floy?exa a-growin' on it,-and^6feign iee< i ♦ T&ia!*; sou ; alarm jovuuffi&sapupl Mia 3>oteM»pit«ft}lly. .<« If Jo«L«* f« coißg, a« ] Hpfin>iteiyit-tj more than likely La'-a on tht

k waj •. JDo you think he'd iv^Hfcto take a tliiiig \ like you mtft ins* J l ' _, '^W.'r ' ' -,■•>■: j, Half -past four is tia usualXJsh'A Couniry 1:- -tea-time; and at thiit'^our tfc was tp&fyi 3 Misaporcas hud sat on, i<«, in l h*) own ialadi |' ; ;alie believed Joshua would turn tiij<\ and slip j; C*ir;«3 not destined to be disappointed JThat,' , gentleman did tarn up. just at that tinftj_;-and ", his ■ features dit] relax into a smile ait siahj- of i ■ -the , desolate picture that met hia eyes as^he ' entered by-the backJway. ' - ' \ 1' *': **oh,.ooshua, Joshua -"cried Mrs. Rimmon, '■{■ rising from hey seat, '? why didn't you tell me j, that we'. werp ruined?" . - •■','■! i „>^Yon bestir yourselves, and help these men" 1 [ 'fotoitig in .these things," was the i reply.' i "if.'-The', words were meaningless^ till Mrs. 5 Rimmon caw with her own eyes, packages ;■ passing the window, unmistakaby furniture, i , " Oh, missis," exclaimed Sarah, clapping her ) hapds, ." it's such a beautiful shape, and we're » gQingtonew'furirishit.?'. . . . i By the midnight the house of RitumOn had [ undergone a veritable .transformation.. The [■: household aid not, however, retire to rest till ~ ; mtlch later ; there was too much to, .admire. ; ■ -Mr; Rimmon wras actually on tolerably friendly I terms with his wife, except for an occasional [' snab. He had had his joke, and it had sue- ' ceeded admirably. ; .and- he had hot explained it : - to her. ' . r I CHAPTER LlX.— The Pains op Freedom. '■ . After her mother's death' and burial, Madei-. Kite; returned to: : Mr. Saltring's without any c rfcsißtence on her father's part. • -fifr» Rockihgham had resolved to make inquiriea astptho placeß Pelbois had visited when he had come to Langton ; and fortune so far favoured him that it was of Jody Waddy he chanced to inquire first. " Have you seen a strange, foreign -looking gentleman about here anywhere ?" Mr. Rockinghan* asked. •" An' itl haven't," responded Jody, solemnly looking upwards, "may the Lord " ** What wail he like ?" "I don't know," answered Jody. I couldn't abide to look at 'im. He looked black enough, I know that ; an.' he pulled a hat over his face, he did, an' he asked me to show 'im the way to Doctor Towers's, an'- then had the face to grumble at the road. An', 0 Lord, don't I wish I had the burying of 'im ; he wor the aggravatinest furrinor ". Jody, to hifl utter surprise, found himself left at this point by the clergyman. He looked after him as he disappeared down the roadj with a fixed eye of disapproval. -'-.;•' The tiny sittingroom was empty whea Mr. Rockingham entered it, and sat down on one of the chintz-covered, chairs, and looked down the street through the small window. The doctor was just starting out on hia first round, but he came at oiica to Mr. Rockingham. '• I hope you will not think," began the clergyman, with some di ifidence, " that what lam going to say is undue interference with your affairs. It you will have the patieuce to near me, you will see that at any rate I am as deeply implicated "as any one can be in the affair of which I am going to sp.eak, and my only motive is to liberate you, if possible, from whatmust be, if my surmises are correct, a most bitter bond. A mau who has caused me the bitterest trouble my life has 'known is, I find, also connected with your house." ' - The doctor's great chest heaved, and hia piercing eyes caught all the expression of the clergyman's face as he Bpoke. ;; * "The name of your maried sister' is thesame as that of the man I hi'.ve alluded to. I -have traced the man to your house." ; The doctor's face became very pale. *• Will-.you tell me iv tbe'same- friendly spirit in which I ask, if -that inau ever professed tomarry your sister ?". v . "He did marry her," replied the doctor, hoarsely. . "-Can you give mo the date ?"' . " It was February. 18— ." "You are.sure of that: 1 ". • ' • • ♦•'I have reason enough to be sure. 1 ' "Then," 3aul the clergyman, '"I am, hideed, a messengerof good to you." " How can you be ?" " He J9 not your sister's husband." "Explain yourself." . * '* He married my sister before that date." * ' Then it is over, aud I ha ye beeu a messenger of good after all." . ~ • . '• You have indeed ; you have removed theshadow that covered our house. Death removed one; you have removed the other. If things' like this happen to me, I shall believe, therais. a God of mercy after all." \. The clergy mau did not begin, 'as some very young curates would have done, to attempt to • prove to this man of 'science the existence of a God of mercy. Mr. Roekingham confined his preaching to the pulpit ; ■ moreover, he was far-sighted enough to see that Dr. Towers waj . .taking .a.lesjon from a Greater Teach.gr... .at Hbhat. moment, for he.had given, biie" little glance"" tipward, aud his eyes were Sv^hnraiug with tears. They walked ou a atU?> further, and the doctor Bujd, "T£6u. have .-baeribo very kind' to me, and. made yourself so close a,f riendby what you havedofle, that it cannot bawrong iii me toaek yOu if your- sister is beyond the reach of that man." ' N " .'.■'"'. " She ib beyond the. reach of that man, beyond the rsach of everyone."*"~Mfui could uot -free her, bo God did it;'' and ho added, as if determined, to be thoroughly frank with tnis mau, whom he had rfl'sp9ctod all along, aud now felt a strong; • affection for", by reason of their common silent Buffering— , . , "My sister had a daughter. She is with me.> So God has not left me entirely desolate.'? . The doctor looked inquiriu»ly. " You must gue«s it already. Madeline is my niece, but I do uot wish it to bo known at present. I must break it carefully to my family. I would not have Madeline suffer injustice at their hands. She must not go to them or bo known to thorn unless in her rightful position." ' . -a " Piide is a hard dictator at times." re- | s marked JJr. Towers, with a sigh. . " That is true," replied the vicar, '• and my , family I have found as hard as ever, even when i I took my poor darling's remains, to their • resting-place in the family vaulf. But I have , a plan iv my head that? sball right Madeline, aud until theu she' shall reruaiu at -Mrs. 'Salt- j , riun's as before,- which she is very willing to i do." [ More might have been said, but the doctor's time was of importance, aud they wore at the,. 1 gate of thehouße he was to visit lirst. i. ! Dr.. Towers waa so light hearted when he entered his patient's room, co very chatty, l that the very sight of him produced a good L effect ; and when he had left that house and i was ouce more in a country lane, he found ; himself unwontedly singing. Then when nt last he wasi at liberty to return home to hia [ usual early dinner, he made somo purchases of ! sijeoial dainties in the village, out of their veaeh hitherto, and sent them on him to \ herald the approach of better fortune. j Miss Towera took in the basket herself when V it arrived, nud called her sister's attention toil. " What can be the meaning of his speudijjg r ;^U this lnouey'r" said Maduiuo Pelbois, as we Bb.aW cod Uniie to call her. ? ' These things .must bo a"y-?^pßnsi ye. It's so early -in the season." "G^s," ho s:aid, "I deolSre'ior the first time thisVoom does secra tabe horribly email aßdincoitVement.'' "What' do you say to the. gabled white house. Am5 t .!'" ♦•'The gaWsd white -liouso! Mr. Richardson's house ?^ ' . . / . l ' Why do ytfjti talk of sucli things," answered. Louisa di:preca)ti«gly, " when you know they' are quite out os our teach?" \ "Out of our Wach. thny were," replied the doctor, "so lojjW a3 other people, spent our money for us-; lAit not so if our income were our own. We havb never b u .ou short of income, but otherp have speVtit f©r m ; that has been iU and that iv oil endeU." ' jJM "He is dwadi" eiclairrjed Maluma I^flH with a gasp. "TheYUwisdaad V ||^H^BB " Dead to- you, mv)Wjuisa > for ei '|lfl^^^^H ; said the doctor, takin&hci' laCG^^HH^| ' careworn, between his ttost-Jarajfllßß^Bßß i is dead'to you. He id to you ■H^^^Bl||H| lived. You have.had a bad ; None of it has e-ver been," a V^HBBHHH ' ing with glowing eyes at the ]BHH^^HHfl| " yVe roust all believe thati'^ BH^^H^H I " Tell us what you have insisted Amy. . "Youhavo-h«^H|^Hßß| i tett'usttho nieaning .of it all." 'B^^BB^^H \ "2Jljrlo?e/' said the doctor, 'H^H^^H to tell but this. Lonie h your^^HHß^^HH ' sister, just as if she had nevexS^^^^HH one else has any right 'over ne r^^^HH|H L more to tell ihan that. ; He' has^^HHDH , to yon,' Louie; but it Js;a.tl .^Vi^^^^B^H right over you) he . nevfir- had^-^BB^^B > trouble us again.: ;B^e%nHHJ ) the very tim«^-^-" . He'didi/o^BJBJHjHHB tencq,).;arrd ' it war not 'needed: .r«flHß| r'^ ; 'nti derstood iiow>; : ; „. /;i'v!-.)v^?^**^^^H^B !■■• .'• quite ha'ixpy, "for JRttpertl^^B' $f j3ad.';Xthoagl>f j at least. we n^ra^r«s^&f i/w&&<tferi k.' .morrow ; ..vr ' ? •'-'.:'>.;■''■-•'] f ,■ Mia. r-ei^Wtt h^ld & : pf her wliite,';fa£ : lianw i, : . » laciclej," a|# Ms> i When I rfavpaA-jcixix ?&&^r:^:^^j§Hffli ' trhetherwe i-p««^, ge^^ftfd.'. a«^ttl^a| I thing, .atfd f #Kftt; feuifftf^ppea 'WJ&sffixM t Bui; wo aotdii all ri^bt^mAl-WarKWi&lßejjjM

;And li'crje^Biids trem&lejd a liiilf, and'her airiplo • bosom tieavodV '' ~'; ( -;:-" :1 '' '" ' ' '■ :^'-~ : -. '.- :%','Butiypu-see, papa 'had never loved. any- ! body but yon.". - ,'. " ' *■' >„ " v . . | „:3?hey were • now • sfcthdiDg intXucy's room, \whieli /rfasin a pretty disorder, .^ot s "cHair;. ' not> : t{rt>le, but held'itißtreaßuie : :6f'.beautifur 'garm'ents' made for this important'eVerifc. Tliere / Afer<?'fa£morß:thau could;have s besti necessary.;.'. but a^.a^fii^dhaa never toe > many dresises for its< « doll /so, the "^olHer; can : never get enough dresses.; for her\!awghte¥.whq is going tobeniarried< " V " hacyiUxaiiA Mrs. peredith, droppinß oii : her kw&ea in fjrtMit of one of the opon boxes ;; v " all jthe linen is together in. tnis box. . I think" it mucJiDettelf that yotishould have all of one kind cfHhing ilqgetfier. Mine was sadly mixed up^vhejvlweiit^away." ■ She topi^oo/'notice that Lucy did riot; reply to anythirig4he.\TOs^ayiDg. It was but natural' that the child^hbuld'be quiet. v There r could be nothing remarkkbje in that. • x ' The bodices^wer&^ext,, fitted, and. proving satisfactory, toQk>«heir : place, in one of the boxes. \ %-.-.?- *• ■ " ," "■■;' ■". . 'MVho is that cohnng upstairs ?" saidtucy, when she wns pu'tina outer dress again. Mrs. Beredith might.haye admonished herself on tho same subject^ itriiinent later, for she uttered a wild cry.. In the doorway 6tood Keziah, with a face so white, \eyes so -unnaturally dark, and a mariner so^itat'ed, that anyone might have been forgiyeu lor being frightened at sight of her. . • , Lucy trembled like mi aspen. Ivezinli stared at them both like an animal at bay ; then^at a^ll the preparations. .Her wild eyes look in every. thing. With a sudden movement she place 1 heiself before Lucy, and was clutching her at arm's length. " Lucy," she said, " you cannot do it- You must not do it. You dare not doit!" Lucy had such a terrified look in her face that her mother interposed; "Iveziah," she said, "it is not kind, it is not generous of you to come like this." "It is, it is," cried Keziah, looking wildly into Lucy's faoo, and not at ail at Mrs. Euredith. "I fcnow what it is, Lucy. You have no right to do it." *• Keziah," said Mrs. Beredith, pitilessly, " I .must beg you to leave my child." "Oh, no, no, no," cried Keziah, "I will never let her go, I will never leave her, tiM she,. has promised never to commit this sin against me.- ; Lticy, he is not yours, he is mine, mine," she cried, flinging up her arms, " you know he IB mine. God knows he is.mmc.'' ■ Lucy opened her pale lips, and a voice spoke from between them, that neither of the others would have recognised. It was at .Keziah she was; looking, but to her mother she spoke. " She ia quite right," she said. " I thought it could never come to pass." And then her form swayed, and she would have fallen on the floor, but for Keziah ; she was quite senseless in her arms. ' ' ; *' Look what -you have done, and perhaps your cruel heart will be satisfied. Oh, I would not be you for all the world, ; to have made so many people miserable as you have. Wherever you have been you bave brought sorrow, and all of your own choosing and williDg.^ If , were yoiiv.Keziah, I would go to the uti;ermo3 parts of the, earth and hide myself. You are very heartless; tricked girl." Keziah's great eyes stared at Mrs. Beredithj like those of a child who is beaten, it knows : not what for. Her faco waa rigid,, and one little hand was so tightly shut by her side, that the mark of every nail was left in the pink palm. . . ' ' , . She- loosed her hold of tho bedstead, and moved 4 her hauda desolately and helplessly before her. " What can I say ? ' What cau. I do?" said poor Keziahi \ <( Nobody will Believe any good of me, I know. "•You. could always talk," rejoined Mrs. Beredith, " and wisely enough, no doubt. But j all your acts have been foolish, all of them.'* . I I 1 - It is quite true," said Keziah, with an evident over- willingness to own herself in the wrong. " I have come here now to- try and undo some of it." "A nice' way to undo it," retorted. Mi's. Beredith, h^otlyJ " You come to seek for your- . self, and to make my child desolate— she who loved him all along, better, much better, than ,ycm.did. How did she treat you? You are proud. You have often said so. You don't' like it to be said that to threw you off, aud manied another. ■■ ' . " Do you think," broke . out Keziah, hotly, in her turn, " that that ifAvhat I have come for ? Do you think I would have come at all, had I believed he would have been happy with :her, Qr,Bhe with him i" " I suppose Dr. Elworthy knows nothing, ; then,"- replied Mrs,. Berudith, indignantly. *'He was neither blind nor mad when he proposed to !-my daughter." y 1 1 " Yes,?' answered Keziah, in a soft voice, and very sidly, uhe wa3 both blind and mad. : I have-tradden thtoSSttr path.- > I couid not let .him tread it too. ", He is my husband before Qod.-; one has a right, to take him from me. ißucy,"Bhe"said, suddenly, kneeliag down by : .her side, " can you forgive me?" : ..." Oh, don't," said Mrs. Beredith. A3 if Bhe : could not bear to hear it. • /"'Let me kiaa you before I go ; I may never sea,;; you again," begged Keziah, in an enticing tone, so f uMJof pathos, few could haye resisted it.' •' You will kiss me?" she repeated. : . . . The girl turned her face nearer to h«r mother,, away from Keziab, and moaned : '' Some day, perhaps; I cannot now." ', -. ; J CHAPTER LXL— Rest at Last. About 7 o'clock the same eveuiug Mr?. 'Beredith'd front-door bell rang, and, Dr. Elworthy was announced. '-.../* Mrs. Beredith," he began, advancing towar~ds,her with his chiu upon his breast, •• I am come to prove myself a villain. But you mustforgive me, for you will be the;gamer.", " £'who ought to be. happy, ami-perhaps of all men most miMerablo. In the eleventh hour I come, as I have said, like a villian, to beg for ■ my release." , "Mrs. Beredith had one shock, but sbbiwrt not expected this to follow it. . " So you have seen her !" w« her rajily, in a : biting tone. " .-". '■ Keen her !'' cried Elworthy, throwing back , tho hair from his brow with'a desperute iuip'.Uieuce. •• No. I have n^t. , I-mar never see her again. Bat I canuot co \yj*oug your daughter as to mnd/Her to me. when with my whole being I lbye anothe;: wtrinan to dia•'traction.' •■ \ '•"'"i,>...... ■- •' . " You might at leaatljavo found ill this out before," exclaimed Mrs. Beredith, shaking from head to foot. ) ' '■■ k "I deserve all you can , say to ;ne, v he ; answered. " But; believe me,' I have.tried to doit. I have tried not to break faitb^but it wa3 not in human nature You have sfeen my anguish and my temptation, ■ my ho^eltss misery for love of that woman, -which; is as strong to-day as ever it was. Can you nc ; pity j • me, a very little perhaps, but still pity'..uie ? j • "She w ; ll not; talk about dying," rejo'inedJ Mrs. Meredith- at last ; " she v/ill do it. <aj£ why could you not have let us alone whes^H were happy, .when the poor child hadtaflHH herself not to think of you ? It Wjflj^lH very cruel of ( you. She has not' desein^^HH you." .^^B^tßk '' No, she has not . deserved^^^H^^fl Elworthy, compassionately. '^B^^^Hiß myself a villain. If you knev^flH^HH^Bß I would use it now. Mrs. .j^AVfI^H^HHJ try and hear me. Gcdinj^HH^^^HH have tried to fulfil ro^ff^^H^^^Hß^H^^H why I appear i Q^^H|j^^HH^H^H coming at tQ e ekrf^^^^^HHH^^H^BH her." '■• At the ia^Bß^^B^^H^^^^B[^^BH Beredit^HnHfl|^^BHpß^^^H^B^B

own mind feanug> his 'jpbor; frioticU had P^t^HH wits:-^JBaifelteifiiis^at fp*,"> >. / ■bcißfettonsiy/^;. ■-.:**-.*'■■■■ ■■ ■ V^^&aMMl ;■.. *«,ghe>.-e~? been -^- to t-j- te*.?\ ; wpwg^H| G6rsid, chscklßg -the .words oft onf;his; fingfol^M ,"'Wlfohaß bbenrtownoin?. Hang it, man; b^g| a little more/explicit."- .' """W. 1 •■ :~ '•'■ "^| ♦'Keiriah, bf^&utse." replied -^worthy. -^ ■ " She's" bsqtf $6 Xncy^fnc^put itt.all rigijt. I couldii'£ atand- i 6" aliplMger.; so, .after I; htwt t^la^t^paWnfJil^eiiit toundthere.to beg, Lucy, tp^freo ;me.H I sHeuld hays \ BinntJtfa : gainsVKer if I JJ&4 nVamed her." • Gerald went on grimly^bppiiig, yip the ink. didn't you do as I tqld-you, and tell her at once, and not let tor goon till the very day bef ore;the wedding ,' and then break off with her. It is a sneaking- trick." " " I know it. is. Go ahead, old man. Pitch into roe as much as you like. Nothing could make me miserable, n,bw I know she loves me enough to have done that.'' ' "I wish .to goodness, you hadn't knocked this ink over.' I don'tinowformy'lifejiow whether iv's .Tune or «Tuly or August these cases are doyvu for.'- " ' ' .' . " They'll let you know when the iimo oomov said Elworthy. " Anyhow, I'm oft." And he took his hat again, aud' went to the railway station. The train for Manchester was waiting, . • but not ready to start. Ho ran the loifgth of the train. Snugly ensconced in a first-class carriago, sat Kezinh, aud by her sidfe was htr uncle .David, comforting her. Elworthy did not- speak to her. He rushed and got his ticket, then quietly stepped into the carriage as the train was moving off ; and taking her little hands in his, spoke not one word : but .thoy looked into each other's eyes, and were at i'aat. ' CHAPTER LXIIV-VTjiic as tiie Poles Asr;xr>KK. As Koziah particular!^ v; ishVd that her happy werlding sho..,! 1 , taki 1 {uaoe JtVo: • Tue sit'me house, which had w^;. Haekbit, and as Mr. . ioy.o a\ eagerly ..welcomed any plan which allovu :'i ol' his 'showing, his newlyacquired famili'i^o to a testive party, Dr. ■ JKlworthy was p'-r;vuilecl to :>ppearat Jumley in the character o •'». bridegroom. Bub we should -not dwell upon any im'lents connected with this w«ddiDg, : wore it i.oi; that Madeline bad been specially pressed to ,o^nie with Mrs. Salt ring J - from. ' Laugton, and had yielded after much . solicitation, being 'qiu,te igdorant that Bimpler resided at Mr. Eimiuou's. ; Mr. Bimpler had made a sort of programme fee tho* entertainment of the weddiag yuests, at Mr. Ittmnion's suggestion. After bfbrtkfas* the whole party was to bo driven toXAugi.eton Park, the seat of Lord Jumley; aSvi at a, pretty country innonthe outskirts of thiipwkj a dainty lunch had been ordered for 2,;]0.. * The day was a glorious one, as if to favour thY , scheme ;. and Keziih had scarcely teen wavsitl • jfg: ", before two carr-ages arrived for this expedittpv To every one' 3 surprise, and to. the great;' >; annoyance of some, Madeline begged not to be ■ "■■■; one of the party. Mrs. Saltring could say nothing in explanation, though she did her best that would content the others. The drive would da . Madeline good. . Madeline must come ; and she. poor girl, with the face' of alabaster, at length ; consented, to go. >'• - '■'■'•■ ■Mr. Birbpler had made inquiries about Madeline aince encountering her at the Saltriugs', and had recently wormed it out of some • one who knew, : that she was Mr. Rockingham's ' -\\ niece. He could hardly have told why, butv . this feature in the ca3a made him appear to \' himself a worse villain. It was not then on the daughter of an ordinary music-hall singer that he had practised hie fraud. . Such persons were used to that sort of thing, he thought. But it was a lady, of noble descent, who had been sacrificed by a direct imposition on her own > good nature and unselfishness. It was clear the past could not be altered by any amount of cursing and reviling. He took ,ouchis pocket-book, in which we have seen him make entries ; and wrote upon a leaf in it, in Italian/of which language he knew Madeline to.be mistress: *' Be at ease. I see you recogjilzeme. I am too much ashamed of myself ever to press my acquaintance upon you. I send this only that you may be sure that I shall treat you as a stranger on all occasions when we may chance to meet, which is the least do to make reparation.'' • . JS ■' K 6 . detective could have imaginedyif ' he hail looked at Me. Kimpler's countenance, . that?' he had ever-met this lady before ; much less' would he have thought he was conveying something to her hand.: Madeline knew it. however; and , had she not perceived by his face that ha did not wish people to know they were anything but strangers, the would have bean terrified. She, could not let the note fall, and show there had been one ; so her hanu closed upon it. Madeline moved towards the window of the room into which the party was introduced, with the slip of paper folded between her fingers, and nobody noticed her. v . Her back', was towards everyone ; and by a subtle inst&ct some women have, she felt she must take this opportunity of glancing at her paper. • How could she gues3," indeed, What grave importance might .attach to her knowing its-, contents, at once ? Mr.. Eimpler, who was engaged in giving ! directions *tb> waiter at the 6ther end of the 'ropnj^inow by her attitude that she was reading the'lest£rv. She took her purse from her pocket, ' arid put tjie^fblded paper into it, just as she was joined by Maud Towers.; .. ,' ~ The luncheon was a great success, and after • ,it the party Bet out' to walk in tne park. Mr. ; Kimpler had noticed that Madeline was more 'comfortable than at first. He was glad of that; arid he now, did his beat to entertain JMra. Saltring,'who had fallen to his lot, since had j conic out. AU at price, he beheld seated' upon a bench a woman, with grey haft'and a ragged shiiwlt' On her arm was an old canvas bag; and she looked.inisarable enough .for anything. Mr. Rimpler for some reason could scarcely ! keep down his' excitement. He said to Mrs. Saltring, Quietly enough for all that, "We must not see a pe'tson.'look so wretched' as, that i ou bo gay a day;';!! kind he fumbled ia hij I pocket. r ;>•'""■ ' ' '".'.! ; Mrs. Saltring, pleased. eyes, watchedi him .go up- to- the woman, , aud "bestow, his. willing alui3 upon her. :.-. She did not/hearj -' however, the few w'oMavMr. Bimpler spoke to' J the' wotaan, or s'be- might ..have seen--. aa, altogether different meaning irihi? act. Inthat A :brief moment he had made an arrangement witb...^^^ her to meet him at the tavern thg^iMJ^tptiflH quitted, the nest day. Hg^b|M^^^Bß|flH| if uothiiig had occurred ; 3^j^^H^^^HH^BS < merrily, and everjono^^^H^^^HHj^^HßH waa time to return The sojdut^B^^bH^^^H^^^^^BHHH ' T\iinaion.'w^^^^^P|^^^^^H^^^^^^^^^HH| was not' u'nJ^^^^^^HHHHj^^H^H^^HH

■Ho the situation at a gUnce, aud did not -' HRwafttevhtß wife, but remained sulkily •• Bite lie iras; and the «t*ij> ploughed on Irpugu the water, aud the white cliffs came Bearer and nearer." ' '-'■■''■'. ".-.., Jubal determined not to look after the lug; gago properly on landing, as the: readiest lueaus of avenging himself on his wife iot'her want qt feeling; and he bee jme better tempered in proßpeotof this. One thing he meant b'looß after, and oue only, and .that was hja* bsrh-jfog lujed with cigar*, on whichVhe meant to pajT/.uo duty. He likewise resolved to get druuk/.Wnich he knew Laura objected to, not on moral, but on- artistic grouude. Jubal was an appohdage of. her own, and she always remembered this •wheu he made a beast of himself, as she called it, though she appeared to have forgotten it ust now, when Jubal fell, But then, after all, t was fate that had 1 done that, and Jubal chose to eetdrunkY It has been Been that Laura made no step towards speaking to tb'e Bere'diths. ' The Berediths, nevertheless, had recognised her, and had known her well enough not to expect her to accost them. , „ ■ . .-'■,•< •« I should have stayed for the later ship if I had known they were coming over," said Mrß. Iteredtth, rather sharply; "and if that's Keziah's brother, he's very much of her type. 1 ' • '•Why doe-sn't he go to her?" remark el Lucy. '" They don't appear to be on very good terms. Oh, minima." she added, turning her wistful face away from the chalk cli fts, and towards her mother, "if I had married him, aud were returning with him in this steamer instead of you, we should have been farther apart than we are 110 w." The mother sighed, and Baid nothing. " I see it all differently ry>w, mamma," went on Lucy. •' 1 know it would never have done, aud I want to tell Kezir/h ao lam sure he now thinks kindly of w,.i Had I married him, he would have hated mo by now f . And- how much better to Ite separated from him as I am, than to have him bate me, a!nd I be tied to him. I am sure fate was kiuder to me than I kaew ; and time is kind. When £ lasXsaw thas shore. I was wishing I might never se&, it agaiii ; ami now I am just longing to get bafek and see the old home. It was very kind of Gorald Harwyn to write so often." ■. The steamer was at last close to* tho shore and entering the harbour, and Jubal, leisurely enough, advanced towards his wife andtoldher she might as well gather her traps together— that was tho phrase he used— i.{ ahe had left any in the cabin. They would ba in in a minute. "Perhaps you may gp and inquire about them," rejoined Laura, saucily, " seeing you are sa very Bteady on your feet, and we are bo verynear'shore." " At auy rate, Jubal," observed Laura, "you can look after the boxes, aud sue that some of tKem don't get canied off by somebody else." *< They'll see to that," replied Jubal, vaguely indicating ho know not whom. " I'm not going to bother about anything except breakfast. An infernal wash of coffee they'll get for us, I know." " But really," insisted Laura 1 , gathering her cardinal wrap about her, aiid dropping from her pedestal of satire, and, mounting that nf anger, " You must look after the things, Jubal; you know they will be lost, -and thiugs stolen out of them. Yon must stand by all the time they look in them, too, and see they don't take anything out of all those lovely th'iuga I have bought." "Lovely things be hanged," said Jubal, rudely; " what the devil did you waut to get so many things for ? It's through you buying so many things that we had to have new box is to carry them in, and got charged for excess luggage." Jubal kept his wjrd about the boxos ; and they were ruthlessly opened and turned over without any remonstrance from him. The only thing lie took an interest in was his leather bag, which he opened himself and pushed towards the officer with a careless air, as much as to say, "You may look; there's nothing wrong with that." All it appeared to contain was a halfempty flask of brandy and a few toilet requisites. The officer pushed it back towards him with some impatience ; and Jubal, triumphant, marched away with his cigars to the crowded breakfast room , which looked uninviting enough. CHAPTER LXIV.-Ax Ominous Homecoming. At Manchester great preparations had been made for tho arrival of the bride and bridegroom. Everything that David Riminon could think of, to add to the comfort of the young couple, had beeu purchased and arranged for, and David's hopes ran high ;' for was not there a chance that the boy he had adopted would go steadily to business, aud sober down in every respect? • In one of these little excursions to the garden gate, David espied a girl of no ordinary beauty, so it appeared to him, examining either himself or his houso with considerable minuteness; and, thinking he might be of use to hor in pointing out a house she was looking for, bo asked her politely whose house she was in search of. " Well, now, ieally," she replied, advancing towards him with an assurance that astonished David not a little, " it's not a house I'm in search of, it's a person. I generally keep clear of the houses," she added with a light'laugh. "You look," she went on, "as if butter wouldn't melt in your mouth: but if you've got money in your pocket, I could teach you to alter that. But perhaps you can tell me where Jubal Rimmon lives." •'• Look here," she said, dropping her flippant tone, and adopting one witli a good deal of womanly tenderness in it, " I won't take any money, aud I won't see him again if I can help it. We're not all so bad as they call us," she added, "and I can't bear to ccc any one look like you look now. Good-bye, sir." She moved away, but suddenly retracing her stepß, she faced David, who was staudiug where ahe had left him, as if petrified. "You go to church, sir *r" He made no response. "You do, I know," she said., not caring whether he answerocl or not. " When you are thera next, give a little prayer for me ; it'll be the firat and perhaps the last that is ever said feu me." She turned at once without waiting lor a reply, with hot tears on her cheeks, called ther^j^jtljy any words David had spoken, but integrity of tho man. together HH^^H^H£&rioduQ3<) that had shone out HH^B^^^^^Hh^ad spoken with him. As roan| i the corner at a Hj^^H^^^^^Hl^H^HS walkiug carelessly driver could do HHHH^HH^H^^HK£Se ad thrown returning the driver The

graph' messenger came up the gardeu- path, as 1 I>avid looked through the window, ill at ease, t with one of the ill-boding terra-cotta coloured s envelopes in his hand. „ -'.'-.•. J ': David aa if in a dream, ouened hia' telegram, 1 aivdii features worked with evident -excite? 1 men 4 '~v>to'ie)ib. Jitw.is from. Tauies Elworthy, 1 Lear, .iigtou. ana ran a* follows : — "Corno at 1 aiiue. ' Iveziiia' dangerously ill. Have brought ■ nb.r nome.' '■'.';'-• ■ Jubali a cigar in his mouth, swaggered 1 up to his uncle, and impudently took tho tele- 1 , gram from him. • • *-' • . = '••"WhataWeised fool that Elworthy is," was < his commeHt. . ' .' ■' ] . Dayidv without a remark, passed ont of the ( ! roooi, and in a dazed way took his hat and j walked.off. . . ' .'''".' „ ;, . v ' At. the station David hurriedly askod ji tho ; last train to take himanto Manchester had gone i — tolake>lunVin, he ineauti iv time ,f\lr'tho last j to Leamington. 3s*o, there waa n, train m now. i He flung "down aom^ money .reokleasfy,- and *,; went away without tho change. He was going j 1 to Keziah^-Keziah, who w»s dangerously ill. 1 While David' waa hurrying towards Loennugtou, his nephew and his niece by marriage were turning their noses up in a style that would have <nvfcn him constilpftible unfirasinosa at the half-cold viitnda; and from sliarp language and crocs looks they relapsed into silence. Keziah's sudden illness aroused no sympathy in them.' Xeveitheless, it was '» peg to hang a dispuTeupoiJ. ♦'Upon toy word," observed Laura, "you I are an affectionate and tender-hearted brother, to sit there stuffing yourself like a pig, when you have juet heard that your sister's at the LiOint.of death." "Indeed," retorted Jubal superciliously. " It's the first time I ever heard you express any interest in Keziah, though, no doubt, in keeping with j our usual all-round good nature, you ye always taken the greutcst interest in her luwardly. Tray oblige mo by not likening me so often to such an uninteresting animal as a pig. My ambition doesn't lie in that direction." . . "I liken you to one because you remind me of one. In company you affect all the neatness of a gentleman, iii private you emulate your ancestors. I prefer the company of a gentleman to that of a metamorphosed collier." "I declare, Laura,' 1 burst out Jubal, colouring deeply, aud the muscles of his face standing out firm and evident, "it will be the worse tor you if you get trying this game on. You may go just a trifle too far. By heaven, you 11 make me silence that tongue of yours for ever, one of these days." CHAPTER LXV.— Straixed Too Fau. Perhaps only those who are themselves mothers will understand how bitterly Mrs. Beredith felt towards Keziah. Yet, hearing from Gerald Harwyn, immediately on her return from Ihe Continent, that he had, a telegram from Elworthy, telling him to make preparations to receive his wife, who appeared very ill, Mrs. Beredith at once began to relent towards Kez'aii, and unconsciously to frame excuses for her. Keziah happy, Keziah victorious, she could bo . angry with. Keziah broken down, incapable of enjoying her victory, perhaps dying and about to forfeic everything, found a place in Mrs. Beredith'e womanly heart. She reemed to forget for the moment her daughter's position ; for Lucy was the first to hear tho lamentation that broke from her after aho had learnt the news. Lucy for her part, who had long since forgiven Keziah, felt piqued with her mother. It was all very well to play the part of a forgiving angel herself, but it whs a role she did not care to see her mother play so readily. So far was Lucy human, though the poor child had scarcely a fault. Lucy therefore watched her mother's preparations to go to Dr. Elworthy's, with a silence which might have spoken volumes, had Mrs. Bf redith been less absorbed. "But no one is needed here," Gerald said. « I have no doubt at ull Elworthy willnurse her himself; and,'' he added, with evident Imitation, " do you not think that, after what haß occurred, Mrs. 'Elworthy might find it too much for her, in her present condition, to see you.". " Oh, nonsense,'' said thelady, hotly, looking at him with the special scorn other people adopt towards those who are younger than themselves, and have any pretensions to superior knowledge. "Men know nothing at all about that, anl I know Keziuh much better than you do. It will do her good to see me, and to know we' are f fiends again. She has not a bit of resentment in her." It was evening, when a carriage stopped at the door, and Mrs. Beredith trembled as she thought that within a few minutes she must see Keziah, and must realise how much she was changed. • The hall door was opened. Mrs. Beredith could not go out, but stood behind the door of the room in which she was, trembling aa if something were about to break loose upon her. The footsteps passed from, the hall up the staircase, and Mrs. Beredith know that Keziah being carried up to her room ; yet she remained as if glued to the spot. She had lighted a fire in Keziah's room ; and she was sure that she heard Elworthy make some angry remark about it. She must have remained half-au-hour, stationed in the same spot, when she heard a footfall on the stairs. She knew the step wal ;. it was Elworthy'e. He entered the room whero she was, and where some refreshment was laid. He turned a haggard and angry face on her. She felt as she remembered to have done in a nightmare, when she had been in great danger, and could not oven utter a cry. Elworthy 6at down without remark, and commenced to es.t, not like a man, but like an automaton. He looked curses when he happened to glance her way; yet he was not specially angry with Mrs. Beredith . He was at war with the world. He was at war with the fate that had dashed the ripe fruit froiti his lipj. Mrs. Beredith was not that fate, but she was part of the universe that b?held his misery, and he resented her presence. When he had finished eating, he rose to go, 1 and just observed, ns if addrossiug a stranger who had chancrd to be there— " Be cure you do not bang the dcor when you go out." He left the room, and weut upstairs. Gerald ; had remained with Koziah while Elworthy snatched a meal ; arid he found him bathing her head, which was once more shorn of its curls, 1 with eau'-de-Colbghean'i spirits of wine. The room vplis almoat absolutely dark. The fire was screened. Rugs had been laid all along the lanairi?, that nb footfall might be heard. Geraß wa.s about to make somo remark in a low tone, but Elworthy impatiently signed to hin/ to be silent. Tii the meantime the unhappy husband and 1 G bald were discussing Keziah s case. V Whf n did you first notice anything strange 1 in her?" Gerald asked. I "I thought she was not natural on our ■■teddtng-day, but I hoped she'd be, all right we pot away. She seemed gloomy, and of a weight on her he&d and a |^^Bkcy to fall forward if she stooped the ■^HH^ She described it as top-heaviness." j^^^H^Btfmiiii is terribly congested," said no use in having further adHHHII^^kF These cases always require the H^B^H|[^^k. There's nothing but quiet and give." ion, Gerald teleH^^B^^H|H^^^B^ T ho arrived next day. the surgery door by H^B^R^B^BjHßjß^H|^by hor brother on the sipht of IBH^^^^HHS^^HB^^^M^had one of ihe

througfi the dqrJjjsb.S6 of^tho room to Kenan's I Bide, and sat down' boside her- without rustle or sound of any kiiii. Koziab, nevertheless, with <»reat strained eyes, in which there was no astonishment,/only fixed wildness, watched her Beat herself, and immediately addressed her. Maad was startled to hear heraelt called by her name. •.'-'■ , • ••-.,. > : "YoU see, Maud," Keziah began, as if she were continuing a conversation' that had been commenced at some other time, "you niayall of jou bo sorry, hut you can't help me away, frtm here. He need not have left me here ; ho, could have done somethiug else. ' But it seems natural that you and I should bs together, | doesn't it *r"she babbled on. "We have borne a great deal together, haveuH we? Come, we must try to move under that shelter ;_ see, the prcjecUn? rouk. One step ; the lava, it's com-; ing again,'' and Keziali began to 9pringiorJF!>rd; in t;ho bad. Her husband, who liad been in the shadtnv,- ca-mo ut once, and tenderly put his arms about her, speaking to her in tones so-full b£ pity ami airecr'i»n. they might have' moved the hardest heart., But Keziah, with a strength quite astonishing, repulsed him- with, both- lier. hands. "There is but on« I love, and ho. has left mo to die miserably h( re. • No one else shall come nour me. .. Two days later, David Ilimmon wa3 sent for, because Kcziith ha<.l takeu up a hew cry ; she continually asked to see her uncle. Keziah, restlessly moving her head from ore; side to smother, staring into the gloom, with the great eyes that would never,blink, clutching with her two little hinds from time to time at her shaved head, and incessantly imittering^at last dropped one little hand on David's, which, was resting upon the quilt, then convulsively, moved her eyes towards the hand sho had touched. " That is unclo Dayid'3 hand," she, said, in a more natural voice. li It is, it is, my darling," said David, beginiiin» to ruin teaiy in £ reat splashes upon her hand, , that wna 60 hot. ' ' At your service for ever my lamb," be went on, bo, gently ho might have been born a refined gentleman instead, of a ' collier's son. : " I'm not afraid, now you are come. He left me hereto die." The the lids closed over the stmined eyes, and a.s her hiubahd, worn and anxious, softly entered the room, he saw that Keziah was asleep. ■ > " God be praised, he said to himself. " She will recover now.'* It was two hours before Keziah opened her eyes again, and David was still there, and his hand was clasping hers. El worthy pointed to some beef tea, and Mrs. Beredith earned it to Keziah. Strange freak of braiu-maladies, that during them those best beloved are sometimes abhorred. Elworthy, who loved Keziah hotter than his life, aud whom Keziah loved as few women ever Tiavo loved, this Elworthy was the only one Keziah would uot allow to approach heriuthu. iilnuaH. "If he administered either med'ciue or nourishments, slio was seized at one; with frenzy; ami all those little tender offices, to have performed which would have ! made his lot Ie« hard, he was obliged to 1 forego. At 9 o'clock the next morni.ig, as Maud passed the surgery door on her way to breakfast, she heavd'her 'brothei 1 in conversation with someone ; it was thelittlo lady in brown. "I could have blown out my brains for it," she heard her brother siy, " the minute after ; and if you had never come again to inquire as usual, 'I should have done it. I tried to write to you two or three times to tell you how eorry and ashamed I was, but I couldn't." j " You needn't mind about my opinion," replied a gentle voico. "It can be of no moment to anyone." " But it's everything to me," said Gerald, raisiug his voica ; " everything, Lucy, because you are everything, more than everything to me. With you I could be happy anywhere, under any circumstance. Without you, I would I rather die than face it. Oh, Lucy, give mo one little word of hope, and make me happier than nianaver yet was." ' When Keziah bad Blowly crept back into life, Lucy Boredith, who unceasingly made inquiries after her progress, was admitted one morniug to see her. At meution of Lucy, a little flush came into Keziah's cheek, and she eagerly looked for her coming. Maud was in the room when Lucy came in with her gentle step, trembling visibly. She advauced towards her in a moment, and taking her by the hand, led her to Keziah's bedside. "Kizzy," ray pet," she said in a caressing tone she" had never used to Keziah until her illness, "I must introiuce this little lady to you afresh." Something trembled on Kcziah's lips, but no sound came. " She is soon to be my little sister," said Maud. " Ye 3, itis quite true, you needn't look surprised. She is going to be Gerald's wife." Tears now welled into Keziah's eyes as she "fixed a glad look on Lucy, who in her. turn flung her arms about Keziah and bagau to weep. It was the knowledge that Lucy was sure to act in this way that had caused her banishment from the sick- room up to this time, " Maud," said Keziah, in her old impulsive tone, "I am too happy to stay in bed. Can't I ba dressed to-morrow " I am surel am quite well." '; We will Bee all about that/ replied Maud, puraing up her lips, and nodding to Lucy to go. i Lucy hail to hug Keziah over and over again ] before this could take place, declaring sho was never so happy in her life. During this scone Elworthy came into the room to see.' as he srid, that his patient was noc being ill-used ; and at the sight of him a lovely light came into Kezi'ih'B eyes, which only ho ever called up. He silently sat down btside her and took her little hand, and the two looked into each i other's eyes p.s if they could never tire; " Come, Lucy, 1 ' said Maud' "wo are de Imp;' and they left the room. Lucy, ns she went tripping nlong the street on her way home, thought how wonderfully Maud bad got over her husband's death. She did not realise that spiritual vrouuds, like physical ones, ma3t be covered up. CHAPTER LXVI.-Mr. Rimplee's Excursion. The advent of Jubal among the Springwoods, on tho morning but one after his return, was hailed with delight. "He's never happy to ccc people join our board, unless it's to his own interest," said the son, who had just quarrelled with his father. " I guess the governor wants you to cash up, Rimmon.*' Jubal was engaged in speaking to the ladies, and did not hear the last remark distinctly, for which reason Springwood tho younger repeated it as Jubal seated himself. Jubal, haying Had little money as a boy, was most ambitious to be considered " flush," as he termed it, now he was a man ; so he remarked^ with the air of a landed proprietor. "You shall have it tomorrow, Springwood. I'll bring it myself andf go to tho play afterwards. I would pay youl now, only a fellow can't go about without any 4 thing hi his pocket, you know : 10 if it will b& all the suns to you, I'll bring it in to-morrow^' When the party rose to go to the theatjre for rehearsal, Jubal went home, and was/astonished to find a gentleman in company/with his wife. It was our old acquaintance Aw. Rimpler, who had come over, he asserted, /because he wished, if possible, to re-establish sriendly relations between a father and a sou/ Mr. Rimpler Boon perceived] that by this beginning he had made a 'falserstep. ft was quite certain, from the manner/in which Jubal curled his lip and tossed hishd-ad, that his ambition did not lie'in that direction. The wily Rimpler instantly threw out another bait. *} A mere figure of speechA* be said, throwing a, kind of derision upon hia/lost words. " But it might just be to yourjadvautage that the property should como to y[on." LT "I thank you greatly, Mr, Rimpler." said he, Hn^nngly, " for the interest you take in this f^BRkL, nut it is just possible that 1 have H^^Hkmy own. without help from you, for father's/ property into the right Mr. Rimpler, rising B^^flH^^^Va demon on his face. " I came ■H^H^HHvte terms with you. The time [^Hj^^^^Bone by. I now feel myself at H^^H^^^^Suy information I may have about H^H^^^^Hroceedingo, in any way that may H^H^^^HDd. I have the honour to wish you j^B^H^Br.had had another purpose in with which, the one he asHfl^^^HH reason was but insignificant. It j^^^^^^B growing belief with him for a H^^HHSnat Jubal had possessed himself of H|HHHBpapers belonging to his father, the jjMHnliM hung ever since like a sword H^HHVa Rimmou's head. And as the favoured Mr. Rimpler's pro■gHNKhey did not forsake him in this. He HHHPfd Laura in one of those spiteful moods ■■pHh she wonld have sold her dearest ■Rend, He hadfobtainei fromi'herj'alraoet with PBase, the papers he desired :Jf or Laura' had mode ' L-fierself mistress of -every ■ jKisaessipii of' JubaTs long ere this; aud' h'exbad pot .a, lock 'difference. bewe^a^Siiaj^mplCTi^iicl/liiora Rirompn^.Silaß would 'Bto^ii^Mat'liapUiiiig, provided no to be the gainer^ the. JUfahSr actipn ■';'. Latura- di 4 her mejari^piacttbpsxwiiSi' ;BCfircely a thoogKt>of personal ,gain r thaiifi, so vfiuf' as ttßV^pweii;:;^7i^^iii6?jgihi;.it. itSplace, far from ifrnoncg its .attroictJpnß, &Bab|piwe4 hersell reuwkablyjßkiUeqinwuining li$1& he^fy%QQ.yfqn\s%fyp -l at ttbthuie W ?6a»fy:.lft;"»om^t'B.l 7 )^^c/She;"^69ia'-'haTO jacrificed'ohy one id the world for thiK. But Lghe wooldlequalJy baveßftcrißced bereetf. ' ■

' Mr. Einipler did not immediately return to Jumley. Strange to ntrrate, his destipation was the Sprimrwooids' ■•_••■• v

: Mr. Rimpler did not immediately return' to Jumiey. Strange to ntrrate, his destination was the Springwoods'i V • ■■-■• ...'.-.■> '.' .; ,. v ' It was after midnight; and Mr.Rims;Br>to^d in the strget watching the 'stage exit." jSjony' passed fiiiu'bn their way. out without, noticing him at all; and'he noticed no ooe'untill'the manager and proprietor, Hmself appeared. When he came out, "Mr. RiApfer,. after tKe manner of one who has met someone bVap^ pomtmeut, linked- hia arm in Spiring wood the elder's, and, without cere'mohy, went to his apartments with him; ; V " Where have you hidden yourself all this time?" said Spriugwood, looking with more, astonishment than warmth upon Mr. Rimpler.' "Ithas never been my way to tell anything, however trivial, unless, there was an occasion for it,'? Riinpler replied^ -. ... . ,\. "That's t^tteyat^ratei'^retupii^Sprihg-: "wood. "And to teft' you ' another piece of ■truth, yo« are not qnite bo welcome, as you ceera.to have taken rt for granted you would ; be." ■'"■ ■" ' . . ' ■ ■.■■;•■:. '. >•' ■"■ Nevertheless," rejoined Rimpler with ' a smile, ". my visit will not be unpleasant to you, that lam aware of, this time, for it happens to be an extremely simple matter I've come about, and one that could scarcely prove annoying to yotr.SJ; to anybody, I have come to tell you that I have seen Nancy." "You have?" exclaimed Sprlngwood in astonishment.- ' . ...}* I told you that it was my wish notto know what was done with- the child. "Yea, you did," said Springwood with emphasis. " And we haven't told yon/ Y< Butl have changed my mind. Iparticularly.want to trace the child, and I am most anxious to know if what Nancy has told me is true. She says it was aMCollier's^wife she confided it to. called Barker. Is that true? And is it true that she lived at Jumiey ?"■ " Yes, that's quite true." CHAPTER LXVH.— Jubai, Detfxjtbd. David Rimmon had been; absent at Leamington about a fortnight,%hen Jubal came home on* 1 afternoon to Laura with a face of ghastly pallor. " Laura," he said, closing the door.of the drawing-room, in the tone' of a man who must speak to somebody, even though it will be to one who will not sympathise. ' ' Laura, I'm I in an infernal mess." ! "I've got caught, in a trap," be said. «• There's only one chance for me. I've sent a telfigram to my Uncle David;" 11 For goodness' sake tell ma what it is," said Laura, blacohed in her turn. Jub»l blurted out his uext words like a man who aoes not simply turn a tap on, but pulls it out boldly. "I've been helping myself to hif crash, that's it, for this long time past. It wouldu't have come toJight at all, if I hadn'l gone i« for Buch a big lot thi3 time. They've paid all the other cheques without any question ; nut when I went to cash thiH odo, this morning, the clerk went and talked to somehody else, and they looked at the cheque with a magnifier, and kept comparing it with some others : and at last, he just, stepped up and said, * Mr. Franks will come down and see Mr. Rimraon about it. ! Ami I, .like afcol, said he was away from liomn. and said where he was. And they said, 'Well. Mr. Franks would run down by the evemnp train, and see him,' at that cursed Ehvorthy a, So I telegraphed to uncle when I got away, telling him that the busine?s he would hear pi that evening was my doing, and begging hire to forgive me; and he's such an infernal ass he's sure to do it, unless his confounded honeitj goes against it ! so now you know our chances It shuts up everything here, of course, W« shall have to go somewhere else, Laura ; and J shall mnke my father cash up for us." With this he left Laura and went to his bedchamber. He thought the tide had come to th< flood with him, as regarded his throwing hn throwing his father into consternation, and pos essing himself of what he chose of Ins ill-sotter gains. In three minutes he came downstairs v a towering passion, and, darting into the roon with an oath, clutched Laura by the throat, am glared in her faco as though ho would havi murdered her. "They have been stolen," hi hissed, "and it is you who have done it, yo» mean, deceitful, thieving wretch." Jubal did not seem to think for a moraen that these epithets might be equally applioabli to himself. ■ " ■...,, " You have ruined us both, you Bhe-devil. He flung her from him. brutally kicked her,lef the room, and went and got drunk. So drunk did Jubal Rimmon get that nigh that he was unable to raise himself at oni o'clock the next afternoon; and he was ii this condition of splitting headache and abjec wretchedness when David Rimmon entered th< room where he was. " Jubal," said David, with a grave dignity, surveying the handsome lad with the bloodsho eyes and tho tangled curls, who was lookir>{ everywhere but at him, " Jubal,!' s4id David', steady voic9, ♦'.we are to forgive up to Eeventj limes seven ■" • , ' "But when-we are forgiven, punishmeni follows us. Not that I feel I have uuy right to punish. Vengeance is not mine, I forgivt you, Jubal, and I have not exposed you ; bui you must leave my house, and win your breac for yourself, how you can." Jubal'B heart sank, and he groaned heavily. "Shall I tell you the reason?" said David, " You have ruiued me. You , have beer steadily and deliberately ruining tne ever since I have taken you. I have always, been remiss in looking at my accounts, knowing Iliad t good surplus at the bank. Woyild to Goc this had not been the case! It might hav< saved you from this sin. But haft you knowi precisely what was in the bank t,o my accoun when you presented that cheque, you coulc not have gone nearer to taking/everything-. ] have not now money to pay/ my mill handi their wages due. The 'little/^ I have investec cannot be called in at a/fffmute's notice. Ii the meantime I must Tftorrow or — -" buc hi did not finish his sentence. He left the roon and inquired for LauraL He would inquire a ifong time before he foum her. She and her • maid had quitted -t-Ue house the night before, witfcjbut leaving v message. In the meantime a übal had roused himsel to make some preparation for going, he did no precisely know wWere. It was at this momea that he realised tj&at he had offended everybody who could hay% helped him in his extremity including bi&rAuiifc Dorcaß. While he wai packing up^a happy thought struck him. Hi would go aj&dsay gtfod-bye to his uncle. Every thing, evojjin his. attitude, should indicate hii despair ajQd hiß dejection. He would thank hii uncle for the great kindness anc forbeflrfance he had alwayß shown toward* lnim.y In fact he would act such a little play ai BhQji&ld take David's too-jiolding heart bj stferm. J This thought gave him so much hope that ii was with considerable difficulty he brought hii countenance to show the requisite amount o: deßpair. David was sitting in the room ho hac formerly called his parlour, in au attituda oi dejection and thoughtfiilness, when Juba softly opened the door and made a humble step into the room, then advanced no farther bnt stood, hat in hand, his beautiful eyes onlj momentarily glancing at his uncle, and thei drooping at once. David would have sak something, but he could not begiu. Jubal himself opened the conversation. "] am come, sir," he began with a great show o: humility^ "to say good-bye to you, and t< ask your pardon for the villainous way I hav< requited all your goodness to me." Hen he choked a littie. "We may never mcc again on earth, sir ; Ido not deserve that w< over should. But I shall think of you nigh and day, and try hard to live as you would hav< me. . though you will never know." Jnba choked again. "And now," he concluded stepping forward with great hesitation, "wil you shake hands me before I go V" David, with swimming eyes, roae to his feet and rushed upon his nephew, flinging hisarmi about him, and..- holding him convulsively Then, under his strong emotion, he relapsec into his native dialect, " You mun stay wi v me Jubal, we wouna talk o't again," and he fell tc weeping aloud. But to this Jubal replied nothing at all. David ordered in some refreshment ; and thei Baid he must go and try to make arrangement* to get money to pay his hands. Jubal dutifully offered to go with him. David was very glad to find that Jubal would take any kind of iv terest in his affairs. He began to feel cheerf a in spite of his diffidulties ; for if Jubal should sain in character by his misfortune, he would bear it very willingly. The two went on! together, David's arm linked affectionatelj through Jubal'e, to the. amazement of the servants, whohad never seen such a thing before, When tfiey had left the house, David Bpoke to ; Jubal about 'bis ■ aster,. "I am sure thai Kizzy.hae felt it," j^e' begain,. i* that you -havt never Bent a qlessage to inquire about ner. .She asked a« soon as ever, ((he was well enough, ' ii ybuiad niade any inqniiTj and ahn would hav< ~ao answer. Her.life vras-Bayed ; :by a miracle, Jubal.evenif'Sheif 'otit of- dftngernow." •.'- ■ • t; Y^" ißMd^i^uUalj penitently, ••that'i ftnbtterof myßUM^Bhbuldyoumuidmegoiu§ itb'tßan»&gm^uaite*yAv3 : .:,-•■ v : '\: ■••'• 'v'i •■ • ijfavfi'B v oj&f btemed,-i^JWMyclear nephew,'.' 'he &$ a^t»onatdy,.^wh*tvdo I care for mj thi*. toatter; if-'it wsol « : ?^#««», ! gp to Eeaicington, and 1m y<ti* fißJei,!?f \r r v ;^* ■^-/'■' ; ;*^Uf 'v ■';:. '■■ "« Wh#n Jnby'ywi 15^: ,tli© ,tri^ wr^l^iMntng- ■ tboV David linwtwl r ib<)ut- the carriage door, wandering that there" mi^^ wmettuug fuwiiecou^ld do ktnhow Jubal h©^ :& was feeing v :fo#»rd« Iwte^W&at'RbkM

Out p? th«cai^a»9 window witha~Bul)duetlfftce,t| and bis eyw^mietLlu?. 'ancle's' in a 'frankarv manner tbati tt^yliad ever done in his life. :,? ;. " What iohall 1 tell f ,Kiz2jitoto jrou, uncle ?•» he iasked^' "' 7:'-' '■■'/'' : '^ "' .'. '■'"'■ A ;" Tell her, I shall come to see her, again when Ihttveee^tl^ mybwinMi'r" " : - ■•, - \ Jufyl.pramted himßelfat his brother-m---iaw'sithe,morningsithe,morning aft'er.hiß arrival, not withir but some fear and trembling. Gevald Harwyn wJas^he'nrSt ; .person he saw,- /and ' despite the change iii JubfuVloohs, (^ralduistantly recognized ,him, probably on account of Jubal'sf raffle of mind at the time, which was more in£a,r- ► inony with Ms ÜBual frame of mind when^he had "been a pupil at Lionel Harwyn's. Gerald had heard no particular good of Jubal eincethen, arid consequently was not very cordial in Wb reception of him. ■■ , : - "tdidri't think of seeing you.Alr; Harwyn," Jubal began in a conciliatory manner. ... . V It's not much ' to be at neyerthe* ; leas," replied Gerald drily,' " seeing that Hive hero." '•It hadn't occurred to iue. I hare come to see my sister." " There is a proverb,'* broke in another voice, which was that of Drjf^w,orthy himself , who had just entered, *^£i|r;ij^han never.!' For my part lam inpjttie3;.'t^th^ opinion that in ,80016 caaesit w b^E^nevfer^jaii late. Iwonder you'havethe auda^fy^oiß^.after the manner you have treateli^ur'|istOTj^ went on the doctor, warming. |M-Dunngrher delirium I have had to listen to tfrinpeUtipn'of one conversation you had. with her, rb'elieve the last, until it has made my heart sick." Keziah, however, was overjoyed to think that Jubal had come to see her. She had always loved this brother. " Oh, Jubal," she exclaimed as he came into the room, " I can't tell yovi Jtow glad lam that you've come." A There was light in the room now, and she feasted her eyes on him. He came forward with a bashful air, which had bo long been foreign to him. "I have had lots of dreams about you lately," went on Keziah, "but not one that you would care to see me ;" and she held him away from her and feasted her eyes. " I was always so fond of you, Jubal j and we'll begin all over again and forget that we have ever quarrelled. Jubal, I had begun to think you really cruel, and that you would never come near me again. I was quite wrong. We ought to be good friends, you and I. There were j only two of us." CHAPTER LXVIII.— Cox/mfsb Cff tee House of Himmox. The palatial residence and the Methodist cathedral wero actually commenced. The foundation-stone of the cathedral had been laid by Mr. Furnife, M.P. for Jucnley ; and there had been a great demonstration. St. Martha's Church 3tejjs had been crowded with spectators, causing no little annoyance to the vicar, who had come in porsou to remonstrate, but had received a Black Country reception, which is equally strong for or agaiust, as tha occasiou may require ; and on this occasion it w.iß against. It would have pleased Mr. Rimmon, could a foundation-stone of the palatial residence have been laid, too, with like display ; but he could see no way of bringing this about. Although he had only thought this in the iuuermost sanctum, of his heart and with sll the doow shut, the wily Rimpler was aware of at least the direction his thoughts were taking, and awoke to the knowledge that this Rimmon property would slip through his fingers if he did not bestir himself. There was but one way to this end. He must possess himself of power to disestablish this owner of a future palatial residence ; and he was certain in his own mind that Joshua Rimmon would rather lose all in this world than have his memory scouted and scorned when he had left it. So with a brain accustomed to keep facts in working order, he laid hands on the right article at once. He had possessed himself of more than he had expected. There was that other paper which had beon so long in the possession of the grandmother; and Mr. Rimpler, reading that, had been thunderstruck. "It would transport him," he said. He bad been carefully gathering up gold dust; and close to his hand had been valuable diamonds. He was being carried cm to fortune, and the ordsrly brain, rather than auy consciousness of his own, had told his feet to carry him to Springwoods' on business we have heard of. Since meeting Madeline at the wedding, he had reproached himself pretty eenuinely, considering what a hardened wretch he was, for having separated Madeline from her infant, and for telling her it was dead; and he determined to trace it if possible. If he should ascertain that Madeline would care to possess the child, he would so far make reparation for the terrible wrong he had done her. He had come home, and learnt, almost without asking a question, the fate of the woman to whom his child and Madeline's had been consigned, and, more than this, he had learnt that Kezinh Rimmon had adopted it. . ♦ * * «- * * Mr. Rimpler, by dint of keen scent, had discovered Toker, the man who signed the docu-. rnent wlicb had been in old Mrs. Rimraon's possession. He, however, Mr. Rimpler found, had definite plans of his own, and showed no disposition whatever to aid him. Mr. Toker had been keeping his eye on Joshua- Rimmon for many years, with only occasional intermissions during special absences at gold diggings and elsewhere. He had been an accomplice of Joshua Rimmon's in some piece of work that would not bear dav light, before his marriage. " Does anyone elsa know this secret of yours and Mr. Rimmon's?" "There's only one person in the world, I believe, knew about it. and that was his mother, and she's dead. She got. a loiter o' mine, I always think ; anyhow, he never got it, and never dared ask her for it." '•"What if the paper is in my possession?" Mr. Rimpler next observed. " Look here," Mr. Toker replied, " I see the game you're at quite well, and I'm not going to help you to play it. I wouldn't V told you this, except that I don't care a for nothing now." Mr. Rimpley was just returning one day from giving some directions, and viewing the progress of the palatal residence, when he met Mrs. Rimmon coming post-haste towards him. It was evident from her manner that something terrible had happened. ' ' " Oh, Mr. Rimpler do come home as quick as you can," she said, »* I don't know what has happened. He'e awful." "Who?" inquired Rimpler. " Oh, Joshua ; come on." "What's the matter with him? He was all right when I came out." "So he was ; but a strange mac came and saw him, and . . . he was very queer when he saw him. Well, I went into the diningroom, and Joshua, he stared at me like a wild thing, and I asks him what's the matter. And oh, Mr. Rimpler, he can't move and ho can't speak, but I'm sure he knows everything." To his astonishment, on the threshold, whom should he meet just arrived from Leamington, but Jubal. "How is he?" asked Simpler of Jubal. " Is anything up with him ?" •' I believe he's paralysed.'' The two rushed to the dining-room together. There sat Joshua Rimmon, with eyes fixed in an agonised stare and appeal that showed as plainly as anything that his intelligence was intact. • First one addressed him. and then the other, but no sound was elicited from him, nor yet a movement. Silas raised one of Mr. Rimmon's arms. It fell like a log of wood when he loosed it. If ever eyes tried to talk, Mr. Rimmon's did. " 1 see you know what we are saying," said Jubal, in a high-pitched voice, to 'his father. "So it's all the sametome. You take your turn now of listening while I talk to you, you infernal hypocrite. I have known villains, and villains enough, since I left this cursed roof ; hut the most diabolical, hypocritical, and sneaking villain I have ever encountered has been my father. For my own existence Ido not thank y0u. ... Ithas been a curse and not a blessing to me,' considering the nature you endowed me with. Ido not believe it is mmy power to be good or honourable. When I was a child, I hated you. When I grew older and found you out, I despised you too. And what have I turned out now?" And Jubal laughed a scornful laugh. " I ahull die on the sallows yet." , Perhaps eyes can never show their true power of speaking until power of speech and movement are gone, while the intelligence remains. Mr. Rimmon said with his eyes. " Kill me, bat say ■no more," as plainly as his voice could have spoken. " Put me out of my misery/ his eyes kept pleading. Both Jubal and Silas Rimpler understood these eyes., Jubal. as if poshed on to tear hißfftthe^Jimb from limb morally, by the archfiend himself , gloated over his. father's agony, .andreplied to the look of the ,ejes~: '„ ''AVhen did yo^ ever ■ I *roareine? '.Wl&t' reasonhavelto'apareyouP.: You epr.ead your ill-usage of me over years ; I have to take my reyehee in an hour., W^at shall make me stay uwband?" ■ '-.■>*. V-. :■ ■:•'"•■;. „ . -• :.• .•■■•■ -Mr. Simpler; turned.hu fate away»from cheer; agitationu and closed J# tiye* to shutout tjw 'sight of Mr. Rinunon't; anguish. :, «« Loot: you> young Kimm<)n,V.he : said, "drop it; he's bou ehonirfi. he'o.deadbeat.".. .■■ •■" ■/, ■'.. :V>>^ ■:■• <, ;•• .-'■; * $' VGP io /the devil,^ said Jubal, ,bratally. ; " You erionly better; thßii ho it \,in w?« way ; you are bpth of ypu f devi?Bi onlyi you didyt pretend fo.be an angel of; light In the. other *oM%f>*J^^*kV ****** °»» «Wre6Bing:

pis go^to youx v xe»ara^B*fe; ifb^'iti^t^olloF^oa ; *o, tormopt; you snati'^.fnißy^nAvwn snail make a. Q tho^ypntcUnndthtii holds tb.9 peia», lir'thatyOiuare^"- >: ' -^v'- ■'.-,■. ■$>'■'■ i lp;Eirtkptßr;fe]tj v and showed plauriy^hw facSjthai lie was himself utterly;. !<*^j k ™ a . te<i • he ha,d never been so .nonplussed inihißiif*. . ;. £ ♦'Yes, yon soouiidrali ftis: 'fehWl cotbat at least,'*^^Jubßi,weni ; on"in tend: jja9Bidn;_Hpu he" tuiaec? hurriedly to searoh f qr papered. ;* pan.'- --;" I shall not Vitoeaa :jSL»MA; Mr» munpler, staniiugup stiirdUy, and'heniar6hea- ttom tile room ; and that action of his, the result or draappointed ambition and anger, was the means of saving his life. By some strange cteuvle^the; sardeu door- opposite was. open,, and Air. Simpler abstractedly, entered it| and about- the 'gravel paths iati an:an«ry 'm.-tunar, and cast ni^wes on one object af tor.anotl\or.v • • '■• Some one els^'hap^e'ned 1 to effpv.: the garden gate too. ■■■■ It was : no:-6ttierthati Dorcas. She entered, 7 seeing Mr. Bimpler;there. ■■• . "Wliat is the matter", Mr; Rvinpler . J> ' ehe said. ' ' People 'say they" havejseen Ann running about without any bonnet on." But the answer to. this. question wa6 never given. The earth appeared to rumble immediately under th«if feet. They started* m their terror, and gazed at each other. A louder report followed,- aud the earth, shook. " Oh, God," cried Dorcas j pointing with her forelinger in a tragical manner, it's thenouse ;" and as- they looked, the forepart of the building shuddered aiid fell with a mighty orash. A single shriek was heard . Yet another crash followed, and a chimney stack was flung with" immense yioleuae into the garden gatewayi- ■••■■■'■ ■■'•■"» ♦ Another crash followed.^ The masonry which had been supported against the part that had just fallen, gave away, and the, garden doorway was now completely blocked, i " Why don't you go out and see who's in tneliouß© ?" cried Dorcas> wringing her hands. " Will you ' have the goodness to tell me which way?" retorted Mr. Bimpler, angrily, "with that infernal glass all over the walls V " You a man !" sneered Miss Dorcas, " and afraid of a few cuts and Watches, to aavo human life!" "Who was in the house f" shrieked Dorcas, who had now some difficulty iv making herself heard, Buch was the hubbub iv the street outside the garden. , „ *' Your brother and your hopeful nephew, replied Riropler. . A female figure now advanced along the road, accompanied by a doctor ; and when she faw what had taken place, Bhe flung her anus into the air and shrieked alcud — "My poor mistress, where is my poor mistress?" TKat mistress was in the crowd, <Vith eyes fixed and glassy, staring' at the ruined house, when another mass of masonry fell. • " Which room was my brother mf ' crted Dorcne, turning her head to -where Bimpler was standing, frozen with fearj and expecting, as much as he ever exjjectcd anything in his life, that the ground would open under him next. ■ , were in the dining-room," replied Mr. Kiinpler, in a voics that sounded weak and un. like his own. ' " Then the Lord have mercy on them, > smd an outsider Avho had caught the words, "for they'ro buried fathoms deep," which language was very expressive if not accurate. There appeared to be nothing for the crowd to do but to watch the loosened bricks fall one after tho other or in a mass. " Why, who'd a thought this was undermined ? - cried a voice in the crowd. "Mr. Eimmon'? often said to me, as how his place, and the laud by St. Martha's Church, and the other piece he's a-bnilding on, wore the only pieces in the neighbourhood he was sure of. He's a fool who ever buys a house in the Black Country, says I, for its sure to be l?uilt like the house the Bible tells us on, on the aand. They may talk about knowing whether a place is undermined or not. But it's what nobody can say ; only it's more likely yes than no, when a house is in the middle of a coal mine country, and it only want 3 a man to be a bit but of his calculation to make a cutting go under your house or not." But even while the crowd, breathless, watched the ruin of the houße, so familiar to them, another rumble and o, crash were heard at a little distance. At this sound Mr. Eirapler gave a yell. The noiae aid not frighten the populace as his yell did. Panic seemed to eeize them ; they all rushed. frantically from the spot, leaving the imprisoned Dorcas and Bimpler to do what they could. ". " . ' Miss Dorcas, seeing Sarah moving away last of all, called out suddenly, " Sarah, good, kind Sarah, don't you think you could move some of this from before the door ?" " No, I don't, raißS," fsaid Sarah from the road, determiiedly. \ \ " Butl'mhere too," eried jttr. Bimpler. "Sarah, I'll give you t a' sovereign when I come out. You're very strong, Sarah. If I were to help, don't you think you could move something r "You're in no danger there," said Sarah. " I venture to doubt that," remarked Mr. Rimpler rather sharply. " She's going .away," cried Mies Dorcas to Rimpler, "she's!, actually going away, and there's nobody there now." >■■ •; "Sarah," roared the deqjairing Bimpler. "I'll give you two sovereigns. Five! Tea! I've got it on roe, I swear I have. Sarah," he fairly howled, " Til marry you, I swear I will, if you'll let me out." Sarah wa9 too far off to hear this latter propoaal. She was following her mistress, who had been taken into a neighbour's house. A considerable time passed, during which Mr. Rimpler sat down, on a stone to await death, and occupied himself in tearing up all his private notes into minute f rflgments, which act of folly he intensely regretted some time afterwards. , ' After a while the crowd began to gather outside again; but nobody seemed to think of liberating those who were in the garden. "What was tho other noise?" cried Mis 3 Dorcas to the crowd in general. Incredible as it may aoem, the other sound had been produced by the falling of what was built of the Methodist cathedral and palatial residence. It wns a coincidence, that was all. To this day, however, the Black Country people look upon this catastrophe as the direct work of the hand of God; and not a man could b 9 found, much less a woman or child, who would venture to make use of any of the rubbish thus spread upon the ground. To this day it remains ; a single,.brick has never, been carted away. "We can die but oeoq," he remarked to Dorcas. ■ : " And after death the judgment," she added consolingly. "But we're iv no danger of dying here, you fool." Mr. Rimpler felt like a roan charged with a revelation, a' he replfed ominously, ?'We are all doomed." It must be recollected that Miss Dorcas had been brought up amongst this sort of thing, whereas to Mr. Rimpler it was a very unpleasant novelty. Certain words he had heard Joshua Ritnracm road iv the disagreeable prayer-timeß which had been inflicted upon him came vividly iuto his mind ; aud like a prophet who speaks not from" choice, but from inward compulsion, Mr. Rimpler cried solemnly, " Whither shall I flee from Thy presence 'i If I fly to the uttermost parts of the earth, I caunot escape." He could not recollect the passage correctly, but be remembered the spirit of it. Dorcas now became very anxious to get but on her own account, for she,' imagined herself shut up in tho garden with a madman ; and she again appealed to the crowd: But, it was a matter of great difficulty tor^them to dislodge the stones, however -much they might be disposed to do so ; and it was not .till dark in the evening that a way was made for the imprisoned pair through dibris. ' When Dorcas had passed through the aperture, a figure was seen to follow her rapidly, and then to disappear ; aud from that hour Mr. Rimpler was never seen nor heard of at Jumley. ' CHAPTER LXK.—TkB Last. : Some weeks later Keziah was made aware of what had occurred. The knowledge of" it had been carefully kept from her/ till she Eh'ould be stronger. Elworthy then only to|d Her such details as were absolutely necessary. The bodies of her father, aid brother lay beside that of Keziah 'a first husband in Jumley cemetery. Mrs. Rimmon ,had ever since boen at the Berediths'. Mrs. '"Berfldith herself had fetched her as soon as she had heard' of 'the catastrophe, and with "Him -had 'Tjr ought the faithful Sarah, who had refused with many teaw to be separated from her mistress, " : > On Keziaha inquiring aboufLaura, Elworthy told her a plain fact, and her.., name was not afterwards mentioned between; ihein.. .She hjid 'not. gone. home to/her father;^e' "had* quitted England in'cdmpany t with WfnTe^foldf.^, ; V JWhat Elworthy didnpj; t«ljv!pgiaQ tbe irpn cafe in which: '~l&f. RuMtfoh -kept, his papers had been .extracted ftb^la^h'.e ruin'j'and that in it had beeii discdyere^Jaflicient evidence of JoshuaV prepoateroua hypocrisy and wickedneßa.; This tt. jfoiienowfo-got ,f bruited abp.iit;. and was'in ev^^bSd^'e^fanth. and a frightful scene" had <o^^ed^^|^Jo^Q6telry'a^ "the intermeni ;^for ; Blickj Uftjjnbf^ ooople w^en jousea to indfgnfition bejjbnji.^ WB*^' ■$¥$> catfleT.Tjby hnndred> .fiitof $iff oeniiet'ery f apa <lragged tM'coPa '^niJtße)l>ear^^g^i| ignominiouely along the p^vel'pa%'Mdwo.nla bare'borst : it open 'andatpm #b^f<ferpee '^mib 1 from limb hadit not been for a'ipSaat bodyffi pdice^oaJered /to the; oppfc b^; w|^mJo|M[

feral, had^WerW¥a*MHß| of this naiutoWght^ ekp«MH|^B : ,;A apqciail %atso night during th^ first foB^B^BB interroeut, till th? spirit of atdiMl^H .paMionhadlmd tljtt6;tocppia^R^^H ' A >yill was diacove^ed in'tho iroj?9HBJ everything absolutely toV.lftziah, Cantßl r t6 Mrs; R?mtooi*vv*.Elworthy<fi>!dhi9 flj but- added, " And '1 know" niy .KfcßJ .biarnerae wheri'l tell her. pi&f; in heBJ have abßolufely" fef aE(ed\tlie toottey. ■ never prosper.- -Your uncle David- andj tq^kecl itoltt-tegether,' andj vie are both | not to touch a penny 6f it;" > jB '.'Should you be afraid df going alfl Kiziy?'!:... v - ;.;'. .■%■.- v-IY. Y'.:. A i'llow" can I be afriiid o£ going AH .with.yony' 1 : a^aake'di . alinbßt'itt-JHI tone- ' ■■: .. ■■•-■"•:' ' '.-.,VvN. ■. *'^il . ,M Well, thenj 'K.ixzj, thtae^ ing for me at Sydney, and Iran}. notß means. And Gerald Harwya has.bjH : practice, here, which givea n%som>s»Jß n hand." ' V MBJ " What dots mauuna say about Mjl asked, .•'.". /, ''flfli " She is ' quite willing to ?°flH El worthy replied ; "and I ought 888 he added with asniijs, "that t^y°^B^H of yours insist on accoliip.iuyiug_^HH be quite a -party. Both Sarai^BJß refuse to be left behind, and I I^^H to take them, on condition that BHBJ the plan.'* . BBH A couple of years later oil, ' AWJH turned home to England— no <^BJBJ than young Edraond"SaUnng,B^Bß bronzed, whiskered fellow aaiQjgBHBJ able — was recounting to a^^HBjBJHB listeners at his father's tawBBMHH Harry's exploits, and nennH^B^BJ no idea I should med tY^9|^HHH Sydney," he was sayiu«Bßp^B^B| surprise after another.-!- j^^HH^BJ the High street, when jfIVJB^HBJ me Keziah Himmou— l BBBVttWjH El worthy — and 'she ddcgnß^BnVJ She hau two beautifi^BJß^B^BßJ Leonard, you know, a vHH9BBJH name was Lucy Muudflßß^BflßH never even heard that JHfl^^H^H She made me promise see the doctor .aud the cBAbAvABb got into tho room, raoth^B^BJßßH| her especially, "than I voice. Yes, he was Bertram. They are a °.t«BjBHBBpJ "And I wonder y ou^HBRWnWBJ that Dr. Elworthv an(lfiV^B^flß^B| Sydney. Dr. VOI hVB^HBJB^E pfacticn ; and I iaii9j|BJ9BBHBJBJ that Mrs. Binimon HBH^B^Bfifl And you know the t^BHBJ^BBpB with them ; welLWifl^BflßJßftVfl she just wojulmh|^BJßJ9H[^B^9 Sarah, she's^KMflßßftHftgßßßJ "Weii, iJ^^^H^^HlH could have^B^BJßfl^Bßß^B^Bß| tone of a^jNBJB^BJBBWJB^BBjH shock to her ctmtnBBVBWBvBHVM " Ah," said EdnTMBJB^BB^BJ take you in. She ||fI^^BBJBBj coachman, if you pI e <fIVJBJHBBJB9 the house. And way out, just for a B jH^HB^H^B "Oh, we know a flHH^^H^H Saltring. "And weHßJßftp^BHa better if Mrs. TowmSHB^BBJH them, for she has beflJß^B^Bß^Bj Keziah went awny.'flHßjHHßnMj "Well, why don't KBJBHfIJBnH perhaps, she will ?" >Hfl^B^B^BJß " It a no go, my bcßflß^BfiHßH game)" said Mr. SauQB^BHBBJ^fI that grave ; and LaytoiiOßßßßHflH not even go on a v i 3 itj^H|^^B^Bß absolute promise f^nflHflHHlvJ die while away, Jjfl^H[^|BHH back and laid "SBHBJ^BBBhBBH "And what 9BfIWAHBBBHH David?" " Oh, he said Mr. SaItrB^^BBJBJfIBjBBH an expensive BHBJBH^B^BfIj^B over tha,t. Anlß^B^^Bß^B^^BJ every day in toBBBJBBBBBJBBH " And J'ubal's'^HHHßßHßH Juniley now?" "Oh, yes. She WflflflßßflYJl everything. She Bai^HHHJHHBBJ the country as if she/rofI^B^BBBBJ factor. They Bay she. j^^BBVJBfI for herself, but she"0B^BBBBH * * ' .jfIBABABBAI " And what will said a laughing ?<^^^^fl^HHß ringlets to a husbandVBBJBJHBBI her as if she was theiflH^B^B^BH creation. iYJ^bVAvABBBI " She will sa 7BBvftVAVAYAI matronly," went .AVABBBBBfIBI ripe lips. " And truliL^a^Jßjfl^^BjflßH^fl did see jfiBBjjB^BfInHHBJBBB wa s ~ v &'y^li^Bj^Hß^^BßjHHßl &s to her^B^BßH^Bßlflflß^BJ 'dimples th^BJBBBJBJBJK^fI^^fI 'her "Ic£lj^B^B^^B^BhmßVßßi ■ fnl in heBB^B^BHHfIHBjBJBJB \ grown i'BwAwAfIfIBfIHSJBBHI " * u^bVAhbbbbbbYAhH eently BBBbBbJBjBBBBBBB "that 7H^^^^|^H^H know ntfIjBBBBBBBHBBBBBj '' DoJBBJBHBJB^^H^B^BJ earnej^Ay^B^BJB^BJBJ^^BJBH sins ifIBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBj theij^BjMjßj^BjßHjßjßjßj : to>aH^^^^^^^^^^^^^^|^H^^H crie^^Bß^^^^^^^^n^^^^H " if il^^^i^B^^H^^^^H^^^^^^H 1 she tryinß^BH^HH^^^Bßj^H me said : You \BJHBJBHBJBBBJBJ|B^B^BJ ; are n !°^flH^^^^BVJEßfllßßVJ caUing."aBJBJBjaJBJBBB^BI In a rot v^K^*^BBB^BB^B^HBBJ husband's side, & ivB^BJBBBHBH^ i door with a tight ■nBJBfiJBBB^B her, 'and thonghtS^B^BßHßHßJ| Worth all the heart 'it last, for 'flßflHS^^^^Hj aechipalb"3HHHH archb3^jm|||mß In the Court of Jam^B^B^B^B^B note: Tom Derry, whc^B^HßHH gallery in Somerset HjBBBBBBBBj m Soldenv "Table Archibald ArmstronmVßß^BßHßJ 1 Cumberland. FroniBJBJBB^BJBJ strong waß attachedJHßJßjflßJ^BJ ■ and -was a bufFoos4BJ^flJßJß^BJ| appearing in Couritvapßß^^BßH whom Sir George^HBBBHBJBBE wo 4 often ill-treafl^B^B^B^B^BßH his friends, one QBVAVjB^BfIB^BJ to toss the P^ or -sV^^H|^HBJfIJB accompanied Ff^aBBBB^HBBBBfI ; .Spain in 1G23, a^H^BHBBBBBfI Courts ' After iI^^BHBBJBHBJ| retaained at' < -r^B^Bß9B^Bfll ■ provided; for himBHBBHHBBHB held the port of i^^^BJBB^B^BJj deposed^ owing'.taß^B^BH^Bß^BJ roligiouß disEen&iodßHßßß^flflßJ ■ courtesy to tQ e prBBH^BBB9BB£ was in p&iking f ui^BHBHpfIBHB day, when.his '^ m BHBHHjBJBBJ were dining'^ith B^BJBJHBJBH privilege of V^BHH^BBBBTJ folded his han^jAVHß^B^^BHj in solemn toneeHHB^BBHBB^H 6od and littleJjß^flJß^Bß^Bß^B the archbishog^flß^^^BHß^BßH when the council, : j|BJHßßßßn|BßJ cause o f.^*|<Bß^BHVflßHßJflßfl himself i & "Wha's fodU»BflHBBBBBBpH the news froi^ApH^HHBfIBVBJ The jester .^BJBBBPBbBBBbbJ the Stair .J^^^HB^UKEt sat in oou)o^BBJBJBB^BBVJBj his cause .^^^^^h^H|^^Hb he was discjbwßJß^B^B^B^B^B^y banished fronflßß^B^BßJß^B^H chigrinedi b^japBJB^BBBJBB^BJ ' w«o .mw l 'SiBBfIBHBHBJHBBJ neith^." :^ d S^b^bh^bbbhl the livug jj|B^BJBBBBJBBBBj| ■gays appldnfl^B^BßßHHßßjßß 'fooiLtl(6n|BflBBBVBBBBHBBB as^hjqrSBJBBHVBBAaBBB he, < oiyIoMBBBJBJHBBJ^BBBfI .me, becauee^BBJBBHBJBIBBBJ :bißbo|e%a^uj^Blß^BHßß^Bß may '«pe^ 'iWBVHfIBaBBBBJ

H^^^HBH^^^^BHBHI/ing short and HHHHHBBHHh to i ) °^ io -* n( l^sf may hero H^^^H|HH|^^h that it^ is generally bottom of the basque |^H^BB*^Hr-Lchine stitch its lower outside until the ■Bc'T^F .after which, it may bo turned l^^ftn and felled dowft-us suggested. Or, I^Hvnes art) all in and the lower edge is ■■^■ver them, the facing may be fitted to n the under side, and both edges |^H|B. Before putting in the bones or bend them; to the shape them in at the waist-live, »^ r * art DOnes » rounding or bendiug Bne 1 tops to correspond with the curve of the Rat the bust. This will assist inprevent■L^ 1 ? • y balgo of ten Been at the to P B of is produced by improperly adHi! 1 ! 08 OT atays. At tlie tops of ■Vf also at their lower ends, the HBaer them should be held a little H^Rr a trifle full — a detail also preventive H^H> c .l U9t mentioned. The hollowing am 3 On^ BUOU^ °° we^ stretched firmly to the bones, especially at^ HHB 10 °r the garment ; and this fasten-, with the different kinds of bones or w eajgly accomplished with any : of the bulging; of bones or stays is to W^^^KBBs^Bvr about an inch at their HHH^^H^^H a^ays be done, as of nemust be tacked their H^^^H^^H^H De inserted between |HHHHHPvfa garment, as geneV| a ' co o nes ma y b° I^HflHßH^ripsV the waist lining ml(%le of the bone BtitcliGs,?and then sewed Hn ms : , au d this) method will be and the bone prevented from I^HBs casinlMV one edge of the latter HHHH t^'i^^Ba underneath before the wraJPra and the overcasting |Bj"' e made. The cement used for the HHxould be of the kind generally used in or china or any material having or glazed surf ace. The bones, HHH|K' e d> should be sewed over the under side of the covering, with the necessary stretchjfl^^^Hvf the seams before mentioned. HBH^Br to sew on casings of tape or WBBKHk^ q bones into them ; and each ■^■HH.tarned down underneath the |H^^Hnthe stay or bone in it, in |^^H^BB'>^ U0 end to remain loose seam edge when desirable, In sewing bins strips of I^^H^^nß for casinga several methods one or . two of the best being H^^HHHthe Btrips just wide enough so I^^^H^B 6 sewed on they will tightly ■H^HBB stays. One plan is to turn enough to make tho casing H^lß(h, and then crease it through the latter may easily lie made j^H^^Hßr 11 > * nou f^U or neatly run the H^HH'w to position, or, with fancy ■^^^■■them to place. The latter very neat effect. Or, after |^^^^HAen folded and creased, run it ! 0 and turn it over the ' |Hh^Hß|H^ 011 the other side, taking the seam. Where a ■H^JHH^^^Hh no necessity for putting |HHH^^|^^r c straight casings to be HHHH^Hse it will give with the j neither bind nor H^^HH|^^^^BBig put on flat and H^||H^^HHH^^W- m to pull into the garment is worn, j^^H^^^^^H^f its restricting limit. tape is much ueed in firmly finished with the tape to be sewn on along the hollowing which cannot be turned under :it the JMfpetiy applied as if it HHH[^^^BU|^BH& a t that point W^Entt^^^^^B^ußmßm*™ the waistwith very |H|^B^^^HH^^H|HV one ma T havo 111 to hold it possible where above bones or along is sometimes ' H^^HflH^^^^H^B^^v a whalebone, for the lin hot ] needle will H^H^H^^HH^ny point. As it : 11^ W soaking, it ; hot water at least HHB^HHR« be used. After j Do Bof tened by the casing of the bone HH^BH^^^^V the breath through it not to wet the of its being H^HHH|^^^^^ft o f assorted lengths |HBBHH^^fl^He3 already made in had in black or HH^^H^^HHhHk 1^ 11 ? to the colour necessary to cut a H^^^H^^^^HBrrar length, theeuds H^^^^HH^^Bued by clipping the |^H|^BHBHr L^ not wear through the W^^^B^Ugnay be made quite smooth bHH^^^HP 761 ' a rough stone or a piece Bj^^H^^versput a bone or stay in every BBI^^KRf a waist, but this is not c side back seams are very H^HBhHJ a bone can be softened and HBHHHJp follow the same curve. This HHaHHWJne.; but if the other seams are BJHBbHTt etayed the side-back seams ■^■^HKiying. SHH^ 11 '' A^ D FIRESIDE. Make a pound or a B^HHvnalf of medium pastry, and line a HHKed greased tin with it, after having HHh out into a thin sheet ; place it in a HHven, and bake it for a quarter of an HH7 until nicely browned, then turn it , out ■Kin, and cut it across iv half. Spread one ■■with any kind' of preserve, and press the B^one on it ; cut it into neat shapes, and I them up, on a*»h; sprinkle sifted sugar |r the saudVichoMKind return them to then for a quatte«Bttin hour, that the jam h get thoroughlylßled. Ii»aBRETrK.-tPut two gallons of water, ■t sliced lemons (with the seeds removed), 2oz. of bruised ginger-root in a porcelninl kettle, and boil 10 minutes. While this liling, pat 41b. of granulated sugar iv two mt of cold water and loz. of cream of x; stir until the sugar is well dissolved. l both liquids into a large Btone crock, mix , and add three-quarters of a teacupful of t Let it ferment over night, and strain bottle. Choice Dbsseet. — This is most easily pre•dsays Good Housekeeping. Line a pie plate > pastry and spread with strawberry prebs. Sprinkle over this two tablespoonfuls grated almonds, mixed with one of powdered Kir. Bake until almost done, then spread K meringue mode in the following manner 1 Hp the whites of two eggs until stiff;, add, Suially, two teaspbonfuls of powdered sugar la few drops of aln>ond essence. Just before leading the meriugue 6tir in a tablespoonf ul ferated almonds ami when spread, sprinkle foiej spoonful over the top. Set in the oven wr minutes tobfowaL ■op Bebe.— To four quarts of water add I good handfule of bops, about a dozen Ins, and a piece of whole ginger,' let it boil lly for two hours, faking care it does not lover: then strain over throe cups of sugar. Be when cool and .cork well. Ew to, Pa?fiEßva 'Mole Skins.— Nail the Kslrin ripen apiece of wood with the fur aide ■wUfhA wood, then wash the skin side with R water; aifterwards rub jt. wit;h a littte ■w-Btooo to get the, rough off v and jet it dry. It must be washed three times. eat of doors to dry, as it dries quicker ■Bjintbetoa 36 '. "''■■ :. .j'-, ,' BHCo C^bas OOtton CBOCHBT.-^-Lay the HHL-jrlc in cold water for a few^houjS, ■■■■JJa warm soap aad. water; wring BBHjßki nearly dry , .and then starclmt. HHBVBq^ and f eep pulling it oat before H^HBflb' ' dtt, then iron tL Great care ■BHBH|h. wequttlrtyoftkeetareh. . j^^^^^^Bk in be .cored, by ; placing ih» HBJBJBHLirktei erer/Bight. '. . * _