TWO-AND-THREE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6090, 29 January 1898, Page 1

TWO-AND-THREE.

I [By Mayor Auwk.3 Author of"" Through the Dark EUfay?' "Overman Win," " From Wbom No Secrets-are Hid," " On the Banks of Allan Water," eta, etc, {All Rigltts Reserved) ChaftebX The s.s. King Orry, from Liverpool'tta the Isle of Man, was Hearing its goaL The island coastline broke raggedly against the blue of the July sky. From Snaefell and Barrule the brightness of the day had faded, now only a flush of pink Bhadowed the purple. Nearer, on the bold promontories of Banks' Howe and Douglas Head the dying sun lit the rich greon of the springy turf and the gold of the cushag, and glorified the vast town of Douglas crowding upon the crescent bay between. It was a fine -evening. It was a fair I scene ; fair to the veriest stranger, but; passing fair to one Manx mnirfan who stood upon the deck of the King Orry and gazed upon the unfolding vision 'with, tears of welcoming joy in her eyes. Ifc wasti year sinceahe had last loked upon it, a year wherein a Brussels " pension" had toned down the exuberance, of her 'happy nature, yet, doubtless, was responsible for her present easy grace of manner and mien. " Ah, Mr Moore !" she cried impulsively, " did you ever see anything so beautiful?" He whom she thus addressed had travelled far and wide, gone where his fame as one of the greatest artists -of the day had gone before him ; yet at Margery Kaneen's question a thrill of Tier innocent enthusiasm assailed him. For the moment he saw Margery's isle with Margery's eyes, and he answered "TSo." Perhaps, his gaze scarcely went beyond the sweet face beside him— the golden hair which clustered upon the proudly poised head, the grave, piqnante mouth, the speedwell bine eyes, the ungloved hand which held partly open the book she had been reading. '•You have an artist's fingers!" he exclaimed almost unconsciously. Five hours ago he had never seen her ; in troth her very existence was unknown to Mm. She had been put on board at Liverpool by the fraulein who had accompanied her from Brussels and had entrusted her to the captain's care with many kindly injunctions. The artist, standing by, had caught her name. A few details thus overheard were sufficient to prove her to be the daughter of an old friend hitherto forgotten, but whom he now remembered to be located at Peel. They had been colleagues five-and-twenty years ago at King William's College at Castietown, both, dabblece in art. . Since then he, the great | Gilbert Moore, had made the world ring with his name ; his friend Kaueen— «h ! well, what if he had sunk in comparative obscurity ? Perhaps his had been the happier life ; he had married young, thia lovely girl of eighteen was his daughter. And Gilbert Moore sighed. There were none to share in the glory-of that success which had crowned his name. In Ms eager thirst for fame there had been no time for love or romance ; he had toiled only for the world's honour, and now the world was at Mb feet. Yet he sighed. " I have taken the gold medal for drawing and a certifioate for painting," Mastery was saying in a pleased Voice. " Father will be ao glad. He painte beautifully. Do you paint better than father r sho broke off, with cMldlike simplicity, i The great E.A. laughed. " You shall be judge of that when you go to the Academy next ' year," ha said. " I have never been to the Academy/ she answered, "I had never been off the island before I went to Brussels." "How came your father to send yon so far away?" " He had a commision to paint some old Belgian streets, so he took me with. Mm. He thought it a good opportunity forme to learn French." " And have you learnt French ?" Moore queried, smiling. " Yes ; but I don't think it so pretty as Manx." " Do you know Manx, Miss Kaneen P" She laughed. " Oh, yes! Should you like to hear me speak Manx, Mr Moore?" "I should if I could understand you." She uttered a few dialect words, but Mr Moore shook his head dolefully. " Oh, see !" ihe broke otf to exclaim. " Does not the new hotel on Onchan Point look grand in the sunlight ? Where areyott going to stay, Mr Moore P" "At that same hotel I believe," said Moore smilingly. There was something very refresMng in her quick young flights of fancy. " You will come to Peel to see us, won't youP" Margery went>on. "My mother is dead. There is only my father and Hugh and me." Moore accepted the invitation with a gallantry which was lost upon the unsophisticated girl ; then he*added : " And who is Hugh — your brother P" "Oh, no; I have no brother. Hugh ia a distant cousin. He -comes from Ardrossan He was left an orphau, and he has lived withjus eight years. He helps my father with the farm." Then there was silence. Both were looking landward; Moore Wily, Margery with her soul in her eyes. Along the greafoeweep of the promenade it was possible nowto distinguish carriages and people; there floated the sound o£ music from the shore. Once above the throbbing of the. steamer's engines the strain came distinct and sweet. It was ".Then You'll.Eenaember Me." Moore took a card from Mb silver case end pencilled sumo words beneath Mb name. " Will you give it to your father P" lie said, and took 'the hand which Margery frankly extended. "Good-bye, Miss Kaneen, I am delighted to have met you. I have some belongings below I must go and gather together. Can Ibe of servioe to you lauding?" "No, thank you," was the blithe response, "my father or Hugh is sure to meet me." She was quite unconscious he had honoured her with (for him) unwonted attention, and Moore left her with a puzssled smile playing upon his lips* What a child she was ! Yet what dignity she had ! And, ah ! how little she seemed in awe of himself ! It was Hugh who awaited Margery on the quay. Across the cordon separating thia crowd there from the steamer passengers, they exohanged their first greeting, and, by-and-bye, when the luggage had been got off, they were driving through the busy thoroughfare towards the railway station., " Weel, Margery, are ye glad tae see me again," Hugh said then. To the girl's sensitive ear his speech sounded decidedly broad, compared with the polished tones of Gilbert Mooro, for, added to his Ardrossan accent, Hugh was rather given to indulge in the language of Ms native land, which held a warm place hi his heart ; but for all that this big Hugh, with his kindly brown eyes and smooth ruddy face, was very dear to Margery, and unconsciously she drew a 'little nearer to him. "Of course, lam glad !" she said. And bo they fell to talking, and quiokly flaw the hour it took to traverse across country to the historic fishing port on the •western shore, with the crumbling round tower of its grey old castle .at the mouth

of the harbour, looming 1 black against tho darkening sky. Quarter of an hour's drive in the conveyance awaiting them at the station brought the travellers to Ballaslieu, the farmstead, which had been Margery's home since infancy, and there Margery's father received her with open arms. It was characteristic of Kaueen's easy nature to have left it to the younger man to see to his daughter's safety ; but now that she had come, she had no cause to complain of the warmth of his welcome. "By ( the way," there was an. accident on the King Orry," Hugh said, when presently they sat down to the cosy dinner-table. "I forgot -till this minute, Margery; the cabby told me. It seems Gilbert Moore was on board. ' He slipped on a bit of orange peal coming off the gangway, and had to bo taken 'to the hospital. " Gilbert Mooro. !" v To both father and daughter the name had a peculiar interest. To Kanetn because, in addition to its fame, it brought with it recollections of bygone years ; to ' Margery, for until now she also had entirely forgotten Moore. She produced his card from her purse with an'apologetic flush at her negligence. " Surely ha is not budly hurt !" she cried when she had recounted their meeting. _ Kaneen was studying the card, a gleam of pleasure in his great grey eyes, %^ Moore's message was short but sincere. " Look me up," it said, " for the sake of auld lang syne." "To think of him remembering me !" Kaneen said. "Tae think o' Margery confabbin' wi' the great man, an' keepin' it. close till this meeuifc !" supplemented Hugh. Margery said nothing-. She was recalling how delightfully those hours had. gone by for her m Moore's company, and shuddered to think of the exigencies of fate which had paused so sudden a cloud to , overcast his holiday. Hugh saw her shudder and' intuitively read her thoughts. " Cheer up," he 'advised, " niobbe tha reported was exaggerated. I'll run up to Douglas to-morrow and find out if you like." • '1 think I'll go myself," answered Kaneeu as he carefully consigned Moore's card to his waist-coat pocket. Involuntarily Hugh and Margery exchanged glances -. it was so unusual a thing for the artist to make a departure from tbe routine of his ordinary pursuits.' Hugh was not slow in making the best of so golden an opportunity. " Let's all go," ho said, gleefully. "Margery has never seen Noble's Hospital since it was built.' I'll show her round while you hob-nob, with Moore. Then we'll take her by the new electric line to Laxoy or Grondlo ; finish up with the Palace at night and get home by the eleven train. See?" His sketch of programme vms so inviting Margery smiled despite her 2adne3s. . " Oh, Hugh !" she remonstrated. But her father fell into tue trap without demur. Chapter 11. But it was Moore andnotHughwho acted cicerone on that visit to.Douglas. Within the entrance of the stately red brick hospital on the hill overlooking the bay,the trio from Peel mot the artist juat bidding farewell to its friendly walls, but when Moore learnt Margery had come thither hoping to view its interior, he insisted upon postponing has own departure to await her pleasure, and led the way into the little committeerootn off the hall with a cordiality which won Kaneen on the instant. " Oh, yes ; I have quite recovered," he answered the latter'a anxioua enquiries. " It was merely a case of shock and bruises. I must say, Kansen, your island did not ■welcome me very nicely. I was pitched down headlong and taken here quite tmconscious, it seems. But your fine hospital has made up for it. The doctors advised me to rest here overnight, and really I have never been more comfortablein my life," he broke off now with a laugh. "We Manxmen are proud of our hospital," said Kaneen, well pleased. " And I doubt not equally proud of the gracious donor who has so generously shown his appreciation of you," said Moore. He possessed the happy tact of saving just the right thing in. tie right place. Kaneen looked, as he felt, flattered. When Hugh, and Margery reappeared it was evident the good impression was mutual, for Mooro insisted they should all take lunch and dinner at his hotel with him. " Miss Kaneen," he appealedto her when, her father demurred, "in token of our fellowship on board the King Orry, have pity on me. I hear you are going to Grondle and the Palace. Now, uiy hotel is most conveniently situated for both. I intend going to both, and I should be delighted to go in your company." After that the invitation was accepted ' warmly on Kaneen's part, and with a shy flush of pleasure by Margery. The . fascination of Moore's manner was irresistible, while that impromptu lunch proved him a perfect host. Perhaps Hugh alone experienced a vague sense of disappointment at his presence. It was Moore who found Margery a seat on the open electric car which passed the hotel gate en route for Laxey, then took the one vacant place by her side, whilst Kaneen and Hugh followed in the remaining closed car, for they were filled to overflowing on this glorious morning. It was Moore who reaped the benefit of Margery's bright enthusiasm as they crept tip the brow of the cliff overlooking the channel and silvery bay hundreds of feet below. It was Moore to whom she confided scraps of folklore, when, Grondle reached, the quartette made their way into the lovely glen, and following the course of tho stream along the ravine pathway, whore two could barely walk abreast, reached the headland, where to • Margery's girlish delight, sleek brown seals were disportiug themselves in the. picturesque, artiliciallyenclosed arm of tho sea, whereupon Moore, himself fetched biscuits, f rdra the tea-room : close by, to tempt the timid creatures on to the rocks for her amusement. It was all so novel, so exhilarating, this simple Manx girl's talk, so unlike that of the society dames with whom Moore usually conversed ; her fresh young innocency held him spellbound # # * * * The revelry was at its height within the brilliantly lighted Palaca when they passed through the electric - lit grounds., that night, and presently went up to seat 3 in the circular gallery btmeath the great glass dome. To Margery's bewildered gazej the immense ball-room with its six or more thousand waltzing figures seemed a fairyland peopled with knights and nymphs of a magic world, which , a lull in the orchestra barely disillusioned into a bevy of Lancashire lads and lasses in blazer jackets and straw hats, and the cheap flash of feminine finery. Even Moore, who had Been most of the dancing palaces of Europe, confessed to a feeling of her wonder. " And wore I but Phonoderee I should bo tempted to coax so fair a fairy as yourself to join in it," he whispered, with that gallantry which more than once had coloured Margery's cheek that day. " Oh, ye 3, it's a very fine room," Kaneen was saying, somewhat vr-iuotantly, " a very fine room — eighteen thousand square feet, I believe — but I aau't say I approve of this ; and oh, the evil of that drinking bar outside, open to entice these simple young folk when they come out." # # # * if The clocks were chiming half -past ten, when Moore said good-bye at. the Palace gates. The huge bay lay asleep, bathed in the deep blue cf shadow, outlined by the thousand lights.. which blazed on the margin of its semi-circle from Banks' Howe to Douglas Head. A glare of electricity revealed the balconied tower of Moore's . Hotel on Oncham Point. Below, the red and blue and yellow of divers illuminations scintillated on the glass roof of Derby Castle, while midway iipon the cliff's dark heights above the richly wooded Castle Mona Hotel, once the lordly home of the Dukes of Athol. the white turrets of the pavilion of Falcem Cliff loomed like two phosphorescent ghosts against the dark' grey of sky. Now and then, with rhythmical regularity, the revolving signal from the harbour lightbouse flashed out and lit up the dark rocks

of the Tower of Eefuge and the fishing smacks at anchor. The air was heavy with the odour of. brine. From the promenade came the hum of revelry and the tread of many people passing on their way, the tinkle of tramcars as they shot by in endless succession. The world of Douglas was here still at the zenith of its life. " I have been to many places and seen j many things," Moore said, as he lingered to wrap Margery's cloak over her white bodice, " but to-day you have given me for memories what I can never forget." There was in his voice a deeper meaning than what the words implied; but Margery's answer came with pretty coinpunctivo shyness, " And still and for all this is not Manx," was what she said, " and I think I like our . world best," "Ah!" broke in Kaneen, "you must come to Peel, man ; we'll give you the real atmosphere there." " I will come," said Moore, warmly, as he stepped on to a passing car. Chapter 111. "'ls't no' true, Margery. Ever sin Moore cam' — " " Hugh ! How dare you P" " I dinna daur," said poor Hugh. Then there was silence ; Margaret, in her white gown, with her sketching box in hen hands, blushing, indignant; Hugh, in his farmer's corduroy and gaiters, calm, but pale through pain. It.was the month of September, and the cornfields of Ballaslieu lay ripening around them. The afternoon sun was hot. Sky and sea met in a blue deep as the Mediterranean. For here, from the vantage ground of a knoll whore fencing separated the grain land from the pasture, could be seen. the sea breaking the line of horizon flanked by the dark outline of Contrary Head. The man and the girl stood still; one on either side of the stlye ; she bound seaward, he for home. And in that moment of stormy silence the minds of both were busy. Margery was remembering Moore was on Peel Hill now, expecting her, ever ready a8 he had been for these last three wonderful weeks to claim her companionship in his sketchiug tours ; to pay more attention to her facile brush than to his own. She was thinking how great a thing it was, this world-re-nowned painter should take interest in the .efforts of a simple school-girl ; and here was this big Hugh, who knew nothing whatever of art and its fascinations, angry — angry because Moore condescended to devote his valuable time to her instruction ! And Hugh? He was recalling a laughing Margery of ten summers, with "floating flaxen locks. He saw the harvest gleaned, all save a handful _of sheaves. He watched that little maid step proudly forward, and with one chubby hand grasping the corn, the other the uplifted sickle, she swept the last ear to the ground. Then Hugh tied up the precious sheaf with ribbon from Margery's hair, and together they carried it home to treasure it till the following year. Ah ! those days had indeed gone since he had played with her at the beautiful old ceremony of the* taking of the Melliah, when he was called upon to elect her queen j for this small Manx maiden was imperious in her demands tipon the time of her big kinsman, and greatly given to instruct him in the mysteries and customs of her native land. Harvest Home no longer brought the subtle charm of bygone time, and Margery, alas, no more wa3 his alone to call his Queen. A quiver passed over Hugh's strong face as he thought of these things; a quiver which touched Margery's heart, for after all, there wa3 but one Hugh in her world. So it was she who broke the silence, though it was only to reproach him. " You dare to be jealous of a great man like Gilbert Moore ?" " "Ay— l'm jealous!" said Hugh, with emotional irony in his tones. "Ye'vesaid it, Margery ; I wadna hae daured say tho ward niysel'." "He helps me with my colours j you know nothing of . painting, so you don't understand !" said she, haughtily. "Oh, I ken naething o' paintin 5 , but I understan' ac thing it's no' for Gilbert Moore's aye at yer beck an' ca'. Whaur's it gaun tae end, Margery ?" She blushed. " Where's what going to end ?" "His comin' between ye an' me," was Hugh's bold reply. " Gin ye like tae toll me ye lo'e him, I'll no' say anither ward " Let me pass !" said-Margery, with fine scorn. "Oh, I'll let ye pass! But it's best tae be aff wi' the auld luv before ye are on wi' the new !" " I'll have nothing-more to do with you," she said, one foot on the style. "It's no' likely," assented Hugh, putting out his hands, nevertheless, to help her across. " • Tt's so in thi»wor)d, for I'm in love With n msidun of high desrep. But V am or.iy marked or.e-anj-iiine, Aiiti tti'i other ehtqi's two-:nicl-tlnee. .Aiiclu girl nevor looks n.t. one-aud-nine With a posail>3e two-and-tkree.' " He mimicked, with a touch of trite sarcasm, the concluding verse of a comic song, then the rago of the music-halls, which Moore h'ld rendered with dramatic humour at Margery's piano the evening before. It was the sad lament of the toy colonel in the Lowther Arcade, who rode on his tin gee-gee. " l'--o been oiithip sf-nll o very long timo, And I.'ni nijvke'l oue->xilinine a-- ,\O;i sue. While just on the nhe\t above ray head, 'I'll rot) $!.&?! iiw nurkad U7o aud-three. Him, v.orcM. of tvll, bis sweetheart, Thp dear littlo dolly-girl over there," had tranfrferredher affections. " Now she trirnn ii)> her nose-nt me,' And carries on wit.li t « o-nnd-fchree." Margery forgot her hauteur in a hearty faugh, and springing from the style landed in Hugh's arms. " Oh," cried she, "why don't you speak like that always, One-and.-nine ?" Hugh withdrew in haste, as if such close cod tact with Margery's flashing beauty stiiied him. " I'm tliinkin'," said he,, drily, " what ye learn in yer youth ye dinna easy forget, an/ sin' ye ca' me One-iind-nine, it's no' worth while conterin* my Scotch tongue tae please ye. Ye canawa* tae yer Two-and-three." For answer Margery curtsied, then sped down the field. Suddenlyshe stepped. "Hugh!" she exclaimed. "The black bull's loose, and I daren't go by !" Hugh stode forward, drovevfcho aggresaive bull into the distance, and accompanied the girl to where the .gateway led to the ■cliffs. "Margery;" he whispered, then, "d'ye really care i or him ?" " Who ?" was the innocent ouery. " The bull?" And without waiting for reply she tripped down the pathway and out of sight. But it was- a very demure maiden who joined Moore in the creek, where she had discovered to him that picturesque glimpse of hay and castle beyond; and unlike her usual self, so grave and studious a pupil did she prove that the self -elected master's interest in her work flagged, and he rallied her for her concentration. Then Margery laid down her brush and looked up in his face. "Mr Moore," she said, with childlike directness, " isn't it wasting your time for yon to be teaching me instead of working yourself?" . Moore met her look, and a new light leapt into his eyes. He laid a big white hand upon hers. • "No," he said, softly. "You are more worth than all my work to me, my chree." Chapter IV. Thessun. had gone down in,a fierce crimson. The ocean, which lay a few hours since tranquil as a child asleep, had awakened in fury. The milky surf wreathed the cattle rocks, the roll of thunder echoed above the roar of breakers, the lightning flashed. Hugh, enveloped in hi&seaman's oilskins, was out among his farm lands ; for the Scol like the Manxman, is impervious to fear of tempests by land or sea, andcit came naturally to him to be there, in the thick of it all

doing what lay in his power to lessen thedestruction the hurricane threatened. Kaneen, content to leave everything in his hands, was indoors absorbed over his latest canvas. His mood might not have been so serene could he liave beheld Margery at that moment clinging to Hugh's arm, her white dress drenched with spray; her^beautiful hair dropped in a golden tangle^abouir her shoulders. "Oh, come in the boat and save him!" she was crying. " The tide came up before we remembered. He was helping me to scramble up the rocks. His foot slipped on the seaweed and he fell. He is lying on the beach* * * I went ,back but he never moved.* * Oh, Hugh, if he is dead! Hugh ! Hugh !" Her voice broke in a wail of terror and emotion. Hugh's ruddy face had grown white. • • " Whaur ?" he said. He moved mechanically forward. She described the spot between her sobs. It was a creek easily accessible on foot at ebb-tide, but which the sea claimed rapidly at the flood. Hugh listened without a word, then he disengaged himself from Margery's clinging hands and looked in her eyes with fearless reassurance. " Ganghame. Te're wat through, lassie. Dinna greet. I'll bring him haine safe an' soun'." "I must go with you, Hugh ! " "Te mun gang hame," said Hugh. " I'll get Peter an' a nobbie at the slip." She turned then and went blindly homewards. She knew he had named one of the stoutest-hearted fishermen for his helpmate, and like Kaneen, she. was content to trust Hugh, knowing Hugh would do his duty to his last breath. But oh, the agony of waiting ! The fear he might be too late ! She went into Kaneen's studio, dishevelled as she was, and wept out the whole story at his knee ; and when the father, moved to tears also, lifted his child to his breast, he felt she was achild no longer, but a woman who had passed through the first and fiercest ordeal of her life. " Oh, but I do not. love you !" Margery had answered him when Moore had laid his fame and fortune at her feet, and at that supreme moment which many a maiden would have been proud to call her own she realised how lightly the love of this world-famed man moved her. Yes, she knew it now ! What though renown might never wreathe Hugh's name ? his honest hands might never wear the snowiness of Moore's, his tongue might never lose the broadness of speech which marked him a son of the soil ; he came before her robbed of all alluring attributes'; yet the tie of kinship claimed for Hugh a subtle charm which needed none of these, and the Scottish blood within her answered to the call. * # # * # ■ They oarried Moore over the rocks and across the headland to Ballaslieu through a torrent of rain and peals of thunder. It would have been an easier task to row their unconscious burden up the harbour to Moore's Hotel in Peel Town, but out of his generous devotion for her Hugh brought his rival within reach of his sweetheart's presence, and if to do this it cost him a lingering pang of jealous pain, none knew it but his own soul. He had discovered Moore's right arm to be severely fractured, and it was he who went forth again into the hurricane to summon the surgeon, not daring to meet the dumb agony in Margery's eyes as she flitted to and fro making preparations for Moore's comfort. Kaneen had sat down to watch by his Mend's bedside, overwhelmed with grief and foreboding. # * # # # After the night of darkness and tempest there came a morning of sunlight and calm. Along the shore the dttlce and seaweed bad left a line of gleaming brown and green to mark where the breakers had been. A derelict yawl lay storm-driven at the foot of Fenella's Tower. The broken masts of ships at anchor in the harbour told their own tale. * * * But that was all. The sea slept; there was no more wind. The sky smiled above, the blush of sunshine tempering its blue, and the rays kissed the ruined arches of the Cathedral of St. Germain's till they glowed like the ashes of a dying fire. But its world- worn cemetery was to claim no dead. The Castle Tower lifted its steadfast face above a scene that was all serenity and quiet beauty now, and in the air there was no note of woe. Chapter V. An attack of fever kept Moore a prisoner to his room after his injured arm had fairly recovered. Kaneen had abandoned his studio for the sick chamber, and perhaps it was owing to his faithful companionship that, with returning health, Moore's heart was stirred anew with hopes of a closer iinion. Kaneen summoned Margery to his side one evening, and left them together alone. The lamps were unlit, and in the pale gloaming Moore lay on his couch by the window with his face to the sea. She had seen him only once since he had been borne within unconscious, and a little cry escaped her when she saw his bandaged arm, his classic features looking drawn and pallid still. Then, in the siience of the room, slio heard her own heart beating, for Moore had turned, and his dark eyes were fixed upon her. "Don't be afraid," he said, softly. " I am nob going to die yet, thank God!" She wont and stood by his side. " Ah, my Manx fairy !" he said then, and drawing her hand to his lips, kissed it reverently. "How can I ever repay you ? I owe my life to you." : " No, no !" she answered, with emotion, "it was Hugh who saved you — it was Hugh." • Their eyes met. With her. utterance of that name Moore learnt the secret of her love ; and Margery, with the quick instinct of sympathy, reading his thoughts, j gave way to a burst of tears, and she sank on her knees beside him, crying passionately. ''Oh, to think that I, a humble girl like me, have brought sorrow to you, who are so great." j " And what is my greatness ?" he asked, sadly; "have you yourself not taught, me it is nothing — in comparison to Love?" The dim light fell upon her face, encircled with its crown of golden hair, and to Moore's eyes it shone like the ethereal face of an angel. " Don't grieve, little one," he went on, "despite what it has cost me, I would endure it all again to realise the world well lost for love — the love of such as you." Then suddenly he cried out, " Oh, Margery ! Is it all in vain, Margery ?" She rose to her feet blushing, but speechless. Tho stillness grew tense as he waited the answer which did not come. She stood so near, had he put out his hand he must have touched her; yet there seemed to lie a gulf between them he could not bridge. All at once, through the silence came thb sound of Hugh's voice in the hall calling Margery's name. It was only a littlo thing ; but Moore accepted it as the seal of Fate. Involuntarily the girl had looked towards the door, then, as though ashamed of her haste, stood still. Moore caught her hand and clasped it for the last time. Eeluctantly he released her. "Go to him," he said very low- " Good night, and may God bless you." She went out into the lighted hall, where Hugh was still calling her name. " Yes," she said. Hugh had not dreamed of her coming forth from that door. His face crimsoned with embarrassment and surprise. Margery was pale, and he saw her eyes were bright with tears. " Ob, it's naething. Gin I kent whaur ye were — " He stopped and looked down at the bunch of cushag and thistles he carried in his hand — his reason for calling her. He had heard Margery express a wish for Some to paint. "Yes," repeated Margery. " I wadna ha'e cad ye," he answered, moving away. "But is this not forme? Are you not going to give it me?" she said. She touched the yellow and purple posy. " Oh, ay !" Le said, laconically, "but I can lay it by till ye're wantin' it " " I want it now," she said. She took it unbidden out of his hand, and held it tenderly in her own. "They are our two

national flowers, Hugh— yours and mint They go. well together." "Mebbel hevna yer painter's eye foi colour,' he answered, almost brusquely "but I ken the thistles are a faut. It sud hae been cushag an' clovor." "Why ?" asked she. Tears were so distant i romier lovely eyes now that she dared look straight in his. " I'm thinkin' Moore cud tell ye that !" "Hugh," she exclaimed irrelevantly,"! should like to give you a kiss !" Hugh made an astonished backward step. "I wad rather ye didna," was his blunt reply. " Shall I tell you why ?" said she, nothing abashed. " Because yo\i have been so good to me." A flush more of anger than pleasure flooded Hugh's face. " Oh," he broke out, " I savit him for ye, but I cudna thole a kiss frae ye for daein J 't. I'm no a laddie !" Then she came close to him, blushing and diffident; but there was the light of love in her eyes, and though she spoke so very low, Hugh heard her word for word. "Yes, you are the densest, dearest bravest, best of laddies," she whispered " And you are the only one in the world to me." So he understood at last and took her in his arms, thistles and cushag and all, and claimed the kiss she had offered. " For," he said, with a happy, droll smile, " the queer thing is, I thought I was'One-and-nine, and after all it seems I am Two-and-three!"