TALES AND SKETCHES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 9063, 19 October 1907, Page 1

TALES AND SKETCHES.

FAIR MARGARET. (By H. RIDER HAGGARD.) of "King Solomon's Mines," ! "Jess," *'Na4a:fiie-LiW "Joan". Haste," "She," "Ayesha," ' Etc., etc. XJk&i Rights Reserved.] y CHAPTER IV. .-".' LOVERS DEAR. ; "Peter!" gasped Margaret —•"PefkerV But Peter' made no aniswer, only ho who had been red of face went white, so that the mark .of the sword-cut across "his cheek showed like a scarlet line upon a cloth. 'cPeter!" repeated Margaret, pulling at her hand, which he still held, "do you know what yjbu have done?" "It seems that you do, ao what need is there for me to tell you P" he muttered. 1 . "Then it was not an,accident; you really meant it, and you are not ashamed." i , , , " If it was, I hope 1 may meet with more such accidents." ■ " Peter, leave go of me. lam going ,to> tell my father at once." ! ■ His face brightened. " Tell him by all means," he said • *'he won't mind. He told me " ■ '.."■Peter, how. dare you -add falsehood ;l»r-to--you know what. Do you, mean. to cay that my father told you to kiss me, and at six o'clock in the morning, ■fe»?- f*r ■■ ' ' ■■' .■ ;: . ■ . ■' ■ "He said nothing about kissing, but 'I suppose he meant it- He-said that H might ask you to marry me." ] " S'hat," replied Margaret, "is a very different thing. If you had asked jme to marry you,, and, after .thinking it over for a long while, I had answered yes, which of course I should not have done, then, perhaps, before we were married you might havo ■. ■ Well, •Peter, you Have begun at the - wrong »nd_, which ie very shameless and jvicked of you, and I shall never speak you again." ." "I dare say," said Peter resignedly; W all the more reason why I should epeak to you while I have the chance. J?o, you; shan't go til] you have heard me. Listen. I have been in love with you ever eince you were twelve years &d—" ■■.■.■.: ■ ■■■' ■■■'.■■ ' y . "That must her another falsehood, Peter, or you" have gone mad. :• If you tad been in love with me for eleven peara, you would have said so." "J wanted to, always, but your f father refused' me leave. I staked him fifteen months ago, but he put me on my -word to say nothing." ... " To cay nothing— y«s, but he could iipt make you promise to show nb*hing." "I thought that the, ones thing meant fcfoe other-; 1 see now that I have been a fool, and, I suppose, have overstayed my market," and he looked so depreesifcd that Margaret relented a little. "Well," she said, "at. any rate it was honest, and of course I am glad jfehatyou were honest." . " You said just now tiiat I told falselioods —twice; if I am honest, how can t tell falsehoods?" j "I don't know. Why do you ask \Me riddles P Let me-' go and try te> for- -^ ill tins." -.- , .>-• ...- .y^-.^.i^J " Not till you nave aTiswered' me- oui>right. Will you marry me, Margaret? If you won't, there will be no need for J^ou to go, for I shall go and trouble s*ra no more. You know what I am, and .all about me, and I have nothing 'more to say; except that, although you Isnay^jftnd;niany. finer husbands, you, •won't find one who would love and care for you better. I know that you 'are very beautiful and very rich, .while I ata neither one nor the other, and often T have wished to heaven that you were wfc so beautiful, for h sometimes that brings trouble ion'i'Twolnien who are honest and only have, one heart to give, ior so rich either. But thus things are, and I cannot change'them, and, however poor my chance of hitting the , jflove, I determined to shoot my bolt and make way, for the next archer. Is there-any chance at all, Margaret? IFell me,,';aaid'.put. me out of pain, for ,'flp aJja^ia^W^oi^'At^snjuch talking." . "Row;, Slifrgaret began to'grow 'disturbed ;. her waywaid\ assuraaice depart0d from her. ■» "It is not fitting/* she murmured, **■9soA I dof not wash— — I will speak to my father; he shall give you your •■ "No need to trouble him, Margaret. He has given it already. His great Iflesire is that we should marjry, for he. weeks to leave this trade and to live with us in the Vale of Dedham, in Essex, where he has bought back my lather's land." '" '? " You are full of strange tidings this ffbrning, Peter." rf'Yesi Margaret, for our wheel of life i that went so slow turns fast enough to-day, fox God above has laid His irhip upon the horses of our Fate, and ' jtjhey begin to gallop, whither I know »ot. ■ Must they run side by side, or ■eparateP It is for you to say." " Peter,'* she said, " will you not gpive me a little timer" . " Aye, Margaret, ten whole minutes by the' dock, and then if it is nay, all jour life, for I pack my, chest and go. tt will be said that I feared to betaken lor that man's death." , "You are unkind to press me so." . n Nay, it is kindest to both of us. Do you.then love some other man?" , , " I must confess I do," she murmured, looking at him out of the corners of I^er eyes. . • , ' Now Peter, strong as he was, turned faint, and in his agitation let go her Stand, which she lifted, the violets still between^ her considering it as though it were a new thing to her. : " I have no right to ask you who he J k/ f he muttered^ striving to control J . lumself. - . I ; " Nay, but Peter, I will tell you. It is my father—what other man should ] Ilove?" ■ < , ■ " Margaret!" he said in wrath, " you ] are fooling me." 1 "How so? What other man should I love—unless, indeed, it were yourBelf ?" ] "I can bear no more of this play,',' < he said, "Mistress Margaret, I bid < j*ra fare^^God go with you I" And * i^.Pet^F^SHJ^'wlien he had gone < £ few yJKraßji'ft^tnJd you have these * jn&lets m a fat^Kell.gift?" I i He turned aiod lesitated. 3 ! " Gome, tlten, and-t^k© them." 3 .... So back he came, and with little * trembling &|^CTSi,.fJje began to fasten tjaß SQi¥^ff^^B^fmblet, bending ever t fteaier a«s.jg»e^p»ej?§d>\untU her breath "* payed tns&rjw .feee, and -her hair i brushed Ssr |«^«^- Then, it matters t pot liow, once ffiore the violets fell to earth, and she sighed, and her hands a fell also, and he put his strong arms c found her and drew her to him and c fcuseed her again and yet again on the I |^ir«nd jßyes and lips; nor did she. for- t him. <; - ;■.:-■•:■ ' q • $Ab leagfeh-'Bhe thrust him from her, k And, taking 1 him by the hand, led him r to the seat beneath the elms, and bade r him 6it at one end of it, while she eat ,t Jat the other, i .■„...

"Peter" she whispered, "I wish to speak with, you when I can get my breath: Peter, you think poorly of me, do you not? No — be silent; it io my turn to talk. You think that lam heartless, and have been playing with you. Well, T only did it to make sure that you really do love me, since, after that-— accident of a while .-ago (when we were picking up the violets, I mean), you would have been in honour bound to say it, would you not? Well, now I am quite sure, so I will tell yoi^ something, i love you many times' as well as you love me, and have done so for quite as long. Otherwise, should I not have mamed some other suitor, of whom there have been plenty? Aye, and I will tell you this to my sin and shame, that once I grew so angry faith you because you would not speak or give some little sign; th#t I went near to it. But .-.at the last I, could not, and sent him about his busbies^ also. Peter, when I caw you last night facing that swordsman with but a staff, and thought that you must die, oh, then I knew all the truth, and my heart was nigh to. bursting, as, had you died, it would have' burst. But now it is all done with, and we know each other*s secret, and.! nothing shall ever part us more till death comes to one or both." Thus Margaret spoke, while he drank in her words as desert 6a'nds, parched by years of drought, drink in the rain — and watched her face, out of which all mischief and mockery had departec! leaving it that of a most beauteous and most earnest woman, to whom a sense of "the /weight of life, with its mingled joys- and sorrows, had come home suddenly. When she had finished, this silent man, to whom even his great happiness brought few words, said only : God has been very good to. us. Let us thank God." So they did, then, even there, seated side by side upon the bench, because the graeswas too wet for them to kneel on, praying in thep simple, childlike faith that the Power which had brought them together, and taught them to love r each. other,, would bless . them in that "love and protect them from all harms, enemies and evils through many a longj year of life. Their prayer finished, they sat together on the seat, now talking, and now silent in their joy, while all too fast the time wore on. At length — it was after one of these spells of blissful silence— a change came .over them, such a change as falls upon some peaceful scene w,hen, unexpected and complete, a black storm-cloud sweeps across the sun, and, in . place of its warm light, pours down gloom full of the promise of tempest and of rain. Apprehension got a hold of them. They were both afraid of what they could not guess, " Come," she said, " it is time to go in. My father will miss us." So without more words or endearments they rose and walked side by side out of tEe. shelter of the elms into the open . garden., Their heads; were bent, for they were test in thought, arid thus it came about that Margaret saw her feet. pass suddenly into the shadow of a man, and, looking up, .perceived standing in front of her, grave, alert, amused,, none other -than the Senor D'Aguikr. _ She uttered a little stifled scream, while Peter, with the impulse that causes a brave and startled hound to rush at that which frightens it, gave a leap forward towards the Spaniard. "Mother of God ! dp you take me for 'J*^e*P***%#*aS^^ -yotei*V '■ as he stepped to one side to avoid him. "Your pardon," said Peter, shaking himself together; "but you surprised us. appearing so. suddenly wher.e we never tliought to see you." • "Any more than I thought to 6ee you here, for this seems a strange place to" lineer on so cold a mornirig," f and he looked at them again with his curious, mocking eyes that appeared to read the secret of then- eouls, while they grew red as roa^p^eneath his scrutiny. "Permit me to -explain," he -went on. "I came here thus early on your service, to warn you, Master Peter, not to go abroad to-day, since a writ is out for your, arrest, and as yet I have had no time to quash it. by friendly settlement. Well, as it chanced, I meifc that handsome lady who was with you yesterday, returning from her marketing — a friendly soul— she says she is your cousin. She brought me to the house, and having learned that your father, whom I -wished to see, was at his prayers, good man, in the old chapel, led me to vps door and left me to seek him. I entered, but could not find him, so, having waited a while, strayed into the garden through the open door, purposing to walk here; till someone should appear, and, you see, I have been fortunate beyond my expectations or deserts.". "So," said Peter shortly, for the man's manner and elaborated explanations filled him with disgust.. " Let us seek Master Oastell that he may hear the story." " And we' thank you much for coming to warn us," murmured Margaret. " I will go find my father," and she slipped past him_ towards the door. D'Aguilar watched her enter in, then turned to Peter and said : "You English are a hardy folk who take the spring air so early. Well, in such company I would do the same. Truly she is a beauteous maiden. I have . had some experience of the sex, but never do I remember one co fair" " My cousin is well enough," answer; ed Peter coldly, for this Spaniard's very evident admiration of Margaret did not please him. "Yes," answered d'Aguilar, taking no notice of his tone, "she is well enough to fill the place not of a merchant's daughter, but or a great lady — ajcountess reigning over towns and lamls, or a queen even; the royal robes and ornaments would become that carriage and that brow." "My cousin seeks no such state who is happy in her quiet lot," answered Peter again, then added quickly, "See, here comes Master Castell seeking you." D'Aguilar advanced and greeted the merchant courteously, noticing as he did so that, notwithstanding his efforts to appear unconcerned, Castell seemed ill at ease. "I am an eariy visitor," he said, " but I know that you business folk rise with the lark, and I wished to catch our friend here, before he went out," and he repeated to him the reason of his coming. "I thank you, Senor," answered Castell. " You are very good 'to me and mine. I am sorry that you have been kept waiting. They tell me that you looked for me in the chapel, but [ was not there, who had already left it for jny office." ; "So I found. It is a quaint place, bhat old chapel of yours, and while I waited I went to the altar and told my beads there, which I had no time bo do before I left my lodgings." Castell started almost imperceptibly, md glanced at d'Aguilar with his quick jyes, then turned the subject and askjd if he would not breakfast with them. Ele declined, however' saying that he nuet be about their business and his )wn, then promptly proposed that he ihould come to supper on the following light — that was, Sunday — and make •©port how things had gone, a sugges- i "k >ion that Castell could not but accept. J c So he bowed and smiled himself out h

of the house, and walked thoughtfully into Holborn, for it had pleased him to pay this visit on foot, and unattended. At the corner who should he meet again but the tall, fair-haired Betty, returning from some errand which she had found it convenient to fulfil just then. " What,", he <sai<3, "you once morel The saints are very kind to me this morning. Come, 'Senora, walk a little way with me, for I would ask you a few questions." Betty 'hesitated, then- gave way. It was seldom that she found the chance of walking through Holborn ,with such a noble-looking cavalier. . s "Never look at your working-dress," he said. "With such a shape, what matters the robe that covers it?" — a compliment at which Betty blushed, for she was proud of her fine figure. "Would you like a mantilla of real Spanish lace for your head and shoulders? Well, you shall have one that 1 brought from Spain with me, for I know no other lady in the land whom it would become better. But, Mistress Betty, you told me wrong about your master. I went to the chapel and he was not there." '" He was there, Senor," she answered, eager to set herself right with this most agreeable and discriminating foreigner, " for I saw him go in a moment before, and he did not come out again." " Then, Senora, where could he have hidden himself?' Has the place a crypt?" "None, that I have heard of; but," | she added, "there is a kind of little room behind the altar." • "Indeed. How do you know that? I saw no room." " Because one day I heard a voice be-* hind .the tapestry, Senor. and, lifting it;, saw a sliding door left open, and Master Castell kneeling before a table and saying his prayers aloud."' " How strange! And what was there on the table?" " Only a queer-shaped box of wood like a little • house, and two candlesticks, and some rolls of parchment. But I forgot, Senor ; I promised Master Dastell to say nothing about that place, for he turned and saw me, and came at me like a watch-dog out of its kennel. You won't say that I told you. Senor ? T ' "Not I: your good masters private cupboard does not interest me. Now I want to know something more. Why is that beautiful cousin yours not married? Has she no suitors?" " Suitors, Senor? Yes, plenty of them, but she sends them all about their business, ' and seems to have no mind that way." "Perhaps she is in love with her cousin, that long-legged, strong-armed, wooden-headed Master Brome." " Oh I no, Senor, I don't think so; no lady could be in love with him — he is too stern and silent." "I agree with you, Senora. Then perhaps Tie is in love with her." Betty shook her head; and' replied: " Peter Brome doesn't think anything of women, Senor. At least he never speaks to 'or of them." " Which ' shows that probably he thinks about them all. the more. Well, well, it is n6 alfair of ours, is it? Only I am gla,d ; to hear that there is nothing between them, since your mis- . tress ought to marry high, and be a. great lady, not a mere merchant's wife." . "\' ■; :■■<. . V.y ■" ., .-.-■' - Senor, ; , Though .2><ter Bifespw* is not a merchant, at least by' birth, he is high-born, and should be Sir Peter Brome if his father had not fought on the wrong side and sold : his land. He is a soldier, and a very brave one, they say, as all might see last night." "No doubt, and perhaps would make a great captain, if he had the chance, with his stern face and silent tongue, But, Senora Betty, say, how comes: it that, being so handsome," and he bowed, " you are not married either I am sure it can be from no lack of suitors." Again Betty, - foolish girl, flushed with pleasure at the compliment. "You are right, Senor," she answered. "I have plenty of them; but lam like my cousin — they do not please me. Although my father lost his fortune, I come of good blood, and I suppose that is why I do not care for these low-born men, and would rather remain as I am than marry one of them." "You are quite right," said D'Aguilar in his sympathetic voice. "Do not stain your blood. Marry in your own class, or not at allj which, indeed, should not be difficult for one so beautiful and charming." And he looked into her large eyes with tender admiration. This quality, indeed, soon began to demonstrate itself so actively, for they were now in the fields where few people wandered, that Betty, who, although vain, was proud and- upright, thought it wise to recollect vthat she must be turning homewards.- .'So, in spite of his protests, she left him' and departed, walking upon air. How splendid and handsome this foreign gentleman was, she thought to herself, really # a great cavalier, and surely he admired^ her truly. Why should he not ? Such things had often been. Many a rich lady whom she knew was not half so handsome or so well born as she was, and would make him a worse wife — that is, and the thought chilled her somewhat — if he were not already married. • From all of which it will be seen that d'Aguilar had quickly succeeded in the plan which only presented itself to him a few hours before. Betty was already, half in love with him. Not that he had any desire to possess this beautiful but foolish woman's heart, who saw in her only a useful tool, a stepping-stone by means of which he might draw near to Margaret. For with Margaret, it may be said at once, he was quite in love. At the sight of her sweet yet imperial beauty, as he saw her first, dishevelled, angry, frightened; the crowd outside the King^s banqueting-ball, his southern blood had taken sudden fire. Finished voluptuary though he was, the sensation he experienced then was quite new to him. He longed for this woman as he had never longed for any other, and, ,what is more, he desired to make her his wife. Why not? Although bhere was a flaw in it, his rank was high, and therefore she was beneath him'; but for this her loveliness would atone, and she had wit and learning snough to fill any place that he could pve her. Also, great as was his wealth, his wanton, spendthrift way of life had arought him many debts, and she was ihe only child of one of the richest merjhants in England, whose dower, doubtless, would be a fortune that many a "oyal princess might envy. Why not? He would turn Inez and those others idrift — at ' any rate, for a while— and nake her mistress of his palace there n Grenada. Instantly,, as is often the ashion of those who have Eastern jlood in . their veins, d'Aguilar had nade up his mind, yes, before he left jer father's table on the previous light. He would marry Margaret and 10 other woman. Yet at once. he had seen many difiV mlties in his path. To begin with, he nistrusted him of Peter, that strong, [uiet man who could- kill a great armed, :nave with his stick," and at a word >all half London, to his side. Peter, »c was sure, being human,; mjuafc- be in

love with Margaret, and he was a rival to be feared. Well, if Margaret had no thoughts of Peter, this mattered nothing, and if she had — and what were they doing together in the garden that morning? — Peter must be got rid of, that was all. It was easy enough, if he ohoa& to adopt certain means j there were many of those Spanish fellows- who would not mind sticking a knife into his back in: the dark. But, sinful as he was, at such steps his conscience halted. Whatever d'Agui\asr had done, he had never caused a man to be 'actually murdered, he who was a bigot, who atoned for hie misdoings by periods of remorse and prayer, in which he placed his purse and talents at the service of the Church, as he was doing at this moment. No, murder must not be thought of ; for how could any absolution wash him clean of that stain? But there were other ways. For instance, had not this Peter, in selfdefence it is true, killed one of the servants of an ambassador of Spain? Perhaps, however, it would not be necessary to make use of them>. It had seemed to him that the lady was not ill-plea6ed with him, and, after all, he had much to offer. He would court her faiuly, and if he were rejected by her, or by her father, then it would be /time to act. Meanwhile, he would keep the sword hanging over the head of Peter, pretending that it was he alone who had prevented it from fallj ing, and learn all that he could as to | Castell and hi© history. Here, indeed, Fortune, in the shape of the foolishi Betty, had favoured him. Without a doubt, as he had heard in Spain, and been sure from the moment that he first saw him, Castell was still secretly a Jew. Mistress Betty's story of the room behind the altar, with the ark and the candles and the rolls of the Law, proved as much. At least here was evidence enough to send him to the firee of the Inquisition in Spain, and, perhaps, to drive him out of England. Now, if John Castell, the Spanish Jew, should not wish, for any reason, to give him bis daughter in mar- J riage, would not a hint and an extract from the Commissions of their Majesties of Spain and the Holy Father suffice to make him change his mind P Thus pondering, D'Aguilar regained his lodgings, where his first task was to enter in a book all that Betty had told him and all that he had observed in the house of John Castell. CHAPTER V. castell's secret. In John Casbell's house it was the habit, as in most others in those days, for his dependents, clerks and shopmen to eat their morning and midday meals with him in his hall, ' seated at two .lower tables, all of them save Betty, his daughter's cousin and companion, who sat with them at the' upper board. This morning Betty s place wae empty, and presently Castell, lifting hie eyes, for he was lost in thought, noted it, and asked where she might be-^a ques- j tion that neither Margaret nor \Peter could answer. ' ' :. One of the servants at the lower table, however — it was that man who had been sent to follow d'Aguilair on ■the previous night — siaid that as he came down Holborn a while before he had seen her walking with the Spanish don, a saying at which his master look- . «d.-- : grave.- ..,•■-.-•'•-,-''•• : /'*"'■■ •. •;- - Ju6t aef they were finishing their meal,, a very silent one,, for none of them seemed to have anything to say, and after the servants had left the hall, Betty arrived,, flushed as though with running. ' " WheTe have you been that you are so late?" aeked Castell. "To seek the linen for the new sheets, but it was not ready," she answered glibly. " The mercer kept you waiting long," remarked Castell. quietly. "Did you meet anyone?" " Only the folk in the street." "I will ask you no more questions, lest I should cause you to lie and bring you into sin," said Castell sternly. " Girl, how far did you walk with the Senor D'Aguilar, and what was your business with him?" Now Betty knew that she had been seen, and that it was useless to deny bhe truth. "Only a little way," she answered, "and that because he prayed me to show__him his path." "Listen, Betty," went on Castell, taking no notice of her words. " You are old enough to guard yourself, therefore as to ' your walking abroad with gallants who can mean you no good I say nothing. But know this — no one who has knowledge of the matters of my house," and he looked at her keenly, " shall mix with any Spaniard. If you are found alone with this senor any more, that hour I have done with yoUj and you never pass my door again. Nay, no words. Take your food and eat it elsewhere." So she departed, half weeping, but very angry,' for Betty was strong and obstinate by nature. When she had gone, Margaret, who was fond of her cousin, tried to say some words on her behalf, but her father stopped her. Pshaw 1" he said, " I know the girl; she is vain as a peacock, and, re-' membering her gentle birth and good looks, seeks to marry above her station; while for some purpose of his own — an ill one, I'll warrant — that Spaniard plays upon her weakness, which, if it be not curbed, may bring: trouble on us all. Now, enough of Betty Dene; I must to my work." "Sir," said Peter, speaking for the first time, "we would have a private word with you." " A private . word?" he said, looking up anxiously. " Well, speak on. No, ifchis place is not private; I think its walls have ears. Follow me," and he led the way into the old chapel, whereof, when they had all passed it, .he bolted the door. " Now," he said, "what is it?" "Sir," answered Peter, standing before him, " having; your leave at iast, I asked your daughter in. marriage this morning." "At least you lose no time, friend Peter; unless you had called her from bed and made your offer through the door you could not have done it quicker. Well, well, you ever were a man of deeds, not words, and what says my Margaret?" " An hour ago she said she was content," answered Peter. " A cautious man also," went on Castell with a twinkle in his eye, " who remembers that women have been known to change their minds within ah hour. After such long thought, what say you now, Margaret?" "That I am angry with Peter,", site answered, stamping her 6mall foot, "for if lie does not trust me for an hour, how can he trust me. for his life and mine?" "Nay, Margaret, you do not understand me," said Peter. "I wished not to bind you, that is all, in case— — - " " Now you are saying it again," she

INFLUENZA NOT DANGEROUS when properly treated. Remain auietly /at home, and take Chamberlain's Coug& Remedy as directed. Aprompit and complete cure ie sure « to EoUotv, '■' .: '

broke in, vexed, and yet amused. "Do so a third time, and I will take you at your word." " It seems best that I should re-main sil&nt. Speak you," said Peter humbly. " Aye, for truly you are a master of silence, as I should know, if any do," replied Margaret, bethinking her of tha ■ w&ary months and years of waiting. " Well, I will answer for you. Father, Peter was right ; I am content to marry him, though to do so will be to enter the Order of the Silent Brothers. Yes, I am content ; not for himself , indeed, who has so many faults, but for myself, who chance to love him," and she smiled sweetly enough. " Do not jest on such matters, Margaret." "Why not, father? Peter is solemn enough for both of vs — look at him. Let us laugh while we may, for who knows when tears may come? "A good saying," answered Casiell ' with a sigh. "So you two have plighted your troth, and, my children, I am glad of it, for who knows when those tears of which Margaret spoke may come, and then you can wipe away each other's? Take now her hand, Peter, and swear by the Rood, that symbol which you worship " — here ■Peter glanced at him, but he went on — " swear, both of you, that come what may, together or separate, ■ through good report or evil report, through poverty or wealth, through peace or persecutions, through temptation or through blood, through every good or ill that can befall you in this world of bitter-sweet, you will remain faithful to your troth until you be wed, and, after you are wed, faithful to each other till death do part you." These 'words he spoke to them in a voice that was earnest almost to passion, searching their faces the while with his quick eyes as though he would read their very hearts. His mood crept from him to them; once again they felt something of that fear which had fallen on them in the garden when they passed into the shadow of the Spaniard. Very solemnly then, and with little of true lovers' joy, did they take each other' 6 hands, and swear by the Cross and Him Who hung on it, that through these things, and all others they could not foretell, they would, if need were, be faithful to the death. " And beyond it also " added Peter: while Margaret bowed her stately head in sweet assent. " Children," said Castell, " you will be rich — few richer in this land — though mayhap it would be wise that you should not show all your wealth at once, or ape the place of a great house, lest envy should fall upon your heads and crush, you. Be content to wait, and rank will find you in its season, or if not you, your children. Peter, I tell you now, lest I should forget it, that the list of all my moneys and other possessions in chattels or lands or ships of merchandise is buried beneath the floor of my office, just under where my chair stands. Lift the boards and dig away a foot of rubbish, and you will find a stone trap, and below an iron box with" the deeds, inventories, and some very precious jewels. Also, if by any mischance, that box should be lost, duplicates of nearly all these papers are in the hands of my good friend and partner in our inland. British trade, Simon Levett, whom you know. Rejtnember my words, both of you." '*Fk^er,/Vferok6 : x^'Ma;rgaTet'' : in!-ja?u-anxious voice, "why do you speak of the future thusP — I mean, as though you had no share in it ? Do you fear : aught?" • ' . "Yes, daughter, much, or rather I i.icxpect, I do not fear, who am prepared and desire to meet all things they come. You have sworn that oath, have you not? And you will keep it, will you not?" "Aye!" they answered with' one breath. " Then prepare you to feel the weight of the • first of those trials whereof it speaks, for I will no longer hold back the truth from you. Children, I, whom for all tlieee years you have thought of your own faith, am a Jew as my forefathers were before me, back to the days of Abraham." The effect of this declaration upon its hearers was remarkable. Peter's jaw dropped, and for the second time that day his face went white ; while Margaret sank down into a chair that 6tood near by, and staTed at him helplessly. In those times it was a very tenible thing to be a Jew. Caetell looked from one to the other, and, feeling the insult of their silence, grew angry. "What!" he said in a bitter voice, " are you like all the others P Do you scorn me also because I am of a race more ancient and honourable than those of any of your mushroom, lords and kings? You know my life; say, what have I done wrong P Save I caught Christian children and crucified them to death ? Have I defrauded my neighbour or oppressed the poor? Have I Blocked, your symbol of the Host? Have I conspired against the rulers of the N land? Have I been a false friend or a cruel father? You shake your heads ; then why do you stare at me as though 1 were a thing accursed and unclean ? Have I not a right to the faith of my fathers? May I not worship God in my own fashion?" And he looked at Peter, a challenge in his eyes. "Sir," answered Peter, "without a doubt you may, or so it seems to me. But then why for all these years have you appeared to worship Him in ours?" At this blunt question, so characteristic of the speaker, Castell seemed to shrink like a pin-pricked bladder, or some bold fighter who has suddenly received a sword-thrust in his vitals. All the courage wenrfc out of the man, his fiery eyes grew tame, he appeared to become visibly smaller, and to put on. something of the air of those mendicants of nis own race who whine out their woes and beg alms of the passerby. When next he spoke, it was as a suppliant for merciful judgment at the hands of his own child and her lover. " Judge me not harshly," he said. " Think what it is to be a Jew — an outcast, a thing that the lowest may spurn and spit at, one beyond the law, one who can be hunted from land to land like a mad wolf, and tortured to death when caught, for the sport of gentle Christians, who first have stripped him of his gains and very garments. And then think what it means to escape all these woes and terrors, and, by the doffing of a bonnet, and the mumbling of certain prayers with the lips in public, to find ; sanctuary, peace and protection within the walls of Mother Church, and, thus fostered, to grow rich and great." He paused as though for a reply, but as they did not speak 2 went on; " Moreover, as a child I was baptised ! into your Church ; but my .heart, like ! that of my father, remained with the Jews, and where the heart goes the feet follow." j "That makes it worse," said Peter, as though speaking to himself. "My father taught me thus," Oastell went on, as though pleading his j case before a court of law. "We must answer for oar own sins," said Peter again. • Then at length Castell took fire. "You. young folk, who as yet know little of the terrors of the .world, re-

proaoh me with cold looks and colder words," he said; "but I wonder, should you ever oome to such a pass as mine, whether you will find the heart to meet it half as bravely? Why do you think that I have told you this secret, that I might have kept from you as I kept it from your mother, Margaret? I say because it is a part of my penance for the sin which I have sinned. Aye, I know well that my God is a jealous God, and that this sin will fall back on my head, and that I shall pay its price to the last groat, though when and v how the blow will strike me I know not. Go you, Peter, or you, Margaret, and denounce me if .you will. Your priests will speak well of you for the deed, and open to you a shorter road to Heaven, and I shall not blame you, nor lessen your wealth by a single golden noble. "Do hot speak so madly, Sir," said Peter ; '" these matters are between you and God. What have we to do with them, and who made us judges over you? We only pray that your fears may come to nothing, and that you may reach your grave in peace and honour.'' "I thank you for your generous words, which are such as befit your nature," said Castell gently; "but what says Margaret P" "I, father?" she answered wildly. " Oh ! I have nothing to say. He is right. It is between you and God; but it is hard that I must lose my love so soon." Peter looked up, and Casteli answered: , , | "Lose him I Why, what did he swea/but now?" " t care not what he swore : but how can I ask him, who is of noble Christian .birth, to marry, the daughter of a Jew who all his life has passed himself off as. a worshipper of that Jesus. Whom he denies and spits on." Now Peter held up his hand. " Have done with such talk," he said, " Were your father Judas himself, what is that to you and me? leu are mine and I am yours till death part us, nor shall the faith of another man stand betVeen us for an hour. Sir, we thank you for your confidence, and of this be sure, that although it makes us sorrowful, we do not love or honour you the less because now we know the truth." MargaTet rose from her chair, looked a while at her father, then with a cob threw herself suddenly upon his breast. "Forgive me if I spoke bitterly," she said, "who, not knowing that I was half a Jewess, have . been I>aught to hate their race. Wh^t is it to me of what faith you are, who think of you only as my dearest friend and father?" "Why weep then?" asked Castell, stroking her hair tenderly. "Because 'you are in danger, or so you say, and if anything happened to you^—oh! what shall I do then?" "Accept it as the will of God, and bear the blow bravely, as I hope to do, should it fall," he answered, and, kissing her, left the chapel. "It seems that joy and trouble go hand in hand," said Margaret, looking up presently. "Yes, sweet, they were ever twins; but provided we have qur T share of the sfirstvdo rnQ^let'^u»Ngftta(#r©l yg.tk the,/56Cr ond. A pest'%n'ihg priests and 1 a! their bigotry- say 1 1 Christ sought to convert the Jews, not to kill them; arid for my 1 part I can honour the man who clings to his own faith, aye, and forgive him because they forced him to feign to belong to ours. Pray then that neither of us may live to commit a greater sin, and that we may soon be wed and dwell in peace away from London, where we can shelter him." " I do — I do," she answered, drawing close to Peter; and soon they forgot their fears and doubts in each other's arms. i On the following morning, that of Sunday, Peter, Margaret and Betty went together to Mass at St Paul's ' Church; but Oastell said that he was ill, and did not come.. Indeed, now that his conscience was stirred as to . the double life he had so long led, he purposed, if he could avoid it, to worship in a Christian church 'no more. Therefore he said that he w*as 6ick ; and they, knowing that this sickness was of the heart, answered nothing. But privately they wondered what he would do who. could not always remain sick, since not to go to church and partake of its Sacraments was to be published a heretic. But if he did not accompany them himself, Castell, without their knowledge, sent two of his 6toutest servants, bidding them . keep near to them and see that they came home safe. Now. when they left the church Peter saw two .Spaniards, whose faces he thought he knew, who seemed to be watching them, but, as he lost 6ight of them presently in the throng, said nothing. Their shortest way home ran across some fields and gardens where there were few houses. This lane, then, they followed, talking earnestly to each other, and noting nothing till Betty behind them called out to them to beware. Then Peter looked up and 6aw the two Spaniards scrambling through a gap in the fence not six paces ahead of them, saw also' that they laid their hands upon their sword-hilts. " Let us pass them boldly," he muttered to Margaret; "I'll not turn my back on a brace of Spaniards " ; but he also laid his hand upon the hilt of the sword he* wore beneath his oloak, and bade her get behind him. Thus, then, they came face to face. Now, the Spaniards, who were evillooking fellows, bowed courteously enough and asked if he were not Master Peter Brome. They spoke in Spanish, but, like Margaret, Peter knew this tongue, if not too well, haying been taught it as a child, and practised it much since he came into the service of John Castell, who used it largely in "Yes// he answered. "What ie your business with me?" " We have a message for you, Senor, from a certain comrade of ouns, one Andrew, a Scotchman, whom you met a few nights ago," replied the spokesman of the pair. "He is dead, but ; still he sends his message, and it is that we should ask you to. join him at once. Now, all of us. brothers have sworn to deliver that message, and to see that you keep the tryst. If some of us should chance to fail, then others will meet you with the message until you keep that tryst." " You mean that you wish to murder me," said Peter, setting his mouth a»d drawing the sword from beneath his cloak. " Well, come on," cowards, and we will see whom Andrew gets for company in hell to-day. . Run back,' Margaret and Betty — run." # And he tore off his cloak and threw it over his left arm. • ; For a moment they stood, . for he looked fierce and ill to deal with. Then, just as they began to feint in front of him, there came a rush of, feet, and on either side of' Peter appeared the two stout serving-men, also sword in hand. ' "I am glad of your company," he said, catching, sight of them out of the corners of 'r-fua .eyes. "Now, Senors

Cut-throat 6, do you still wish to deliver that' message?" The answer of the Spaniards, who , saw themselves thus unexpectedly outi matched, was to turn, ana run, whereon one of the serving-men, picking up a big stone 1 that lay in the path, hurled it after them with all his force. It struck the hindmost Spaniard full in. the. back, and bo heaw was the blow that he fell on to his face in the mud, whence he rose and limped away, cursing them with strange, Spanish oaths, and vowing vengeanoe tc Now," said Peter, "I think that we may go home in safety- for no more messengers will come from Andrew today. 11 ' No/ 1 gasped Margaret, " not today, but to-morrow or the next day , y n ,, wll oome ' and onl how. will it end?" " That God knows alone," answered toF S^^y as/he sheathed his sword. When the story of this attempt was told Castell he seemed much disturbed. "It is clear that they have a blood feud against you on account of that Scotchman whom you skilled in selfdefence/' he said anxiously. "Also these Spaniards a,re very revengeful, nor Sf^.^ey forgiven you for calling the English to your aid against them. Peter, 1 fear that if you go abroad they will murder you." .;- --" Well, I cannot stay indoors always, like a rat in a drain," said Peter, cross. ly , "so what is to be done ? Appeal to 1 the law?" , . . " No: for you have just broken the law by killing a man. I think you had best go away for a while till this storm blows over." ° "Go awayf Peter go away?" broke in Margaret, dismayedT ,''. Y es," answered her father. Listen, daughter. You cannot be married at once. It is not seemly; moreover, notice must be given and arrangement made. A month hence will be soon enough, and that is not long for you to wait who only became affianced yesterday. Also, until you are married, no word must be said to any one of this betrothal of yours^ lest those Spaniards should lay their feud at your door also, and work you some mischief. •Let none know of it I charge you, as though there were nothing between you." " As' you will, Sir," replied Peter : "but for my part I do not like all these hidings of the truth, which tTer lead to future trouble. I say, let me bide here and take my chance, and let us be wed as soon as may be." "That your wife may be made a widow before the week is out, or the house bui*nt about .our ears by ihese rascals arid their following? No, no, Peter; walk softly that you may walk aafely. We will hear the report of the Spaniard d'Aguilar, and afterwards take counsel." : CHAPTER VI. SABEWEIX.. D'Aguilar came to supper that night as he had promised, and this time not on foot and unattended, but with pomp and circumstance as befitted a great lord. First appeared two running footmen to clear the way ; then followed d'Aguilar, mounted on a fine white horse, and 6plendidly apparelled in a velvet cloak and a hat with nodding ostrich plumes, while after him rode four men-at-arms in his livery. "We asked one guest, or rather he asked ■himseif..,and we have got, eeyeni, or grumbled "Oastell, watching their approach from an upper window. " Well, we must make the best of it. Peter, go, see that man and beast are fed, and fully, that they may not grumble at our hospitality. The guard can eat" in the little "hall with our own folk: Margaret, put on your richest robe and your jewels, those which you wore when I took you to that city feast last summer. We will show these fine, foreign birds that we London merchants have breave feathers also." Peter hesitatedj misdoubting him of the wisdom of this display, who, if he could have bis will, would have 6ent the Spaniard's followers to the tavern, and received him in sober garments to a simple meal. But Castell, who seemed somewhat disturbed that night, who loved, -rioreover, to show his wealth at times after the fashion of a Jew, \ began to fume and ask if he must go himself. So the end of it was that Peter went, shaking his head, while, urged to it <by her father, Margaret departed also to array herself. A few minutes later Castell, in his costliest feast-day robe, greeted d'Aguilar in the ante-hall, and, the two of them being alonej asked him how matters went as regarded de Ayala and the man who had been killed. " Well and ill," answered d'Aguilar. " Doctor de- Puebla, with whom I hoped to deal, has left London in a huff, for he says that there is not room for two Spanish ambassadors at Court, so I had to fall back on de Ayala after all. Indeed, twice have I seen that exalted priest upon the subject of the well-dc"-Berved death of his villainous servant, and, after much difficulty, for having lost several men in such brawls, he thought his honour touched, he took the fifty gold angels— to be. transmitted to the fellow's family, of course, or so he said— and gave a receipt. Here it is," and he handed a paper to Castell, who read it carefully. It was to the effect that Peter Brome, having paid a sum of fifty angels to the relatives of Andrew Pherson, a servant of the Spanish ambassador, which Andrew the said Peter, had killed in a brawl, the said ambassador undertook not to prosecute or otherwise molest the said Peter on account of the manslaughter which he had committed. * " But no money has been paid," eaid Castell. "Indeed yes, I paid it. De Ayala gives no receipts against promises." " I thank you for your courtesy, Senor. You shall have the gold before you leave this house. Few would have trusted a stranger thus far." D'Aguilar waved his hand. " Make no mention of such a trifle. I would ask you to accept it as a token of my .regard for your family, only that would be to affront so wealthy a man. But listen, I have more to say. You are, or rather your kinsman Peter is, still in the wood. De Ayala has pardoned him ; but there remains the King 'of England, whose law he has broken, i Well, this day I have seen the King, j who, by the way; talked of you as a worthy man, saying that he had always, thought only a Jew could be so wealthy, and that he knew you were not, since you had been reported to him .as a good son of the Church/ and he paused, looking at .Castell. " I fear hie Grace magnifies my wealth, which is but small, answered Castell coolly,;' leaving the rest of his st>eech unnoticed. " But what said his Grace?" -V • • "I showed him de Ayala's . receipt, and he answered that if nis Excellency was satisfied, was he satisfied, and for his part would not order any. process to issue; but he bade me tell you and : Peter Brome that if he caused more j tumult in his streets, whatever the provocation, and . especially if that ' tumult wei'e between English and Spaniards, he would hang. him at once . with trial or without it. All of which J he said very angrily, for the last thing J which his Highness desires just now is

any trouble between Spain and England." " That is bad/ answered Castell, " for this very morning there was near to being such a tumult," and he told the story of how the two Spaniards had waylaid Peter, and one of them been: knocked down by the serving-man with a stone, v Ah this news ' d'Aguilar shook his head. " Then that Ib just where the trouble lies,' ' he exclaimed. "I know it from my people, who keep me well informed, that all those servants of de Ayala, and there are more ,- than twenty of them, have sworn an oath by the Virgin of Seville that before they leave this land they will have your kino* - man's blood in payment for that of. Andrew Pherson, who, although a, Scotchman, was. their officer, and a' brave man whom they loved much. NoWj if they attack him, as they ■ ,will, there must be, a brawl, though Peter and the English get the best of it, aa very likely they, may, Peter will certainly be hanged, for so the king has. promised." v, " Before they leave the landP Wheai do they leave it?" "De Ayala sails within a month, and his folk with him, for his co-am-bassador, the^ Doctor de Puebla,; will bear with him no more, • and had written from tihe country house where, he is sulking that one of them must go." "Then I think it is best, Senor. that Peter should travel for a month.** "Friend Castell, you are wise; I think so too, and, I counsel you, arrange it 'at once. ! Hush I here come/i---the lady, your daughter." - \ „•.:'; As he spoke, Margaret appeared descending the broad oak stairs which led into the ante-room. Holding, al lamp in her hand, she was in, full light, whereas ; the two men/ stood , in tha. shadow. She wore a low-cut dress of crimson velvet, embroidered about th» bodice with dead gold, which enhanced! the dazzling whiteness of her shapely^ neck and bosom. Round her throat hung a string of great pearls, and oir,' her head was a net of gold, studded ...- with smaller pearls, from beneath.which. her glorious, chesthut^btack' hair flowed down, in rippling waves almost to her* knees Having her father's bidding eb to do, she hod. adorned herself thus that 6he might look her fairest/ not in.' the eyes of their guest, but in those of her new affianced husband. So fair was she seen thus that d'Aguilar, the artist, the adorer of loveliness, caught Jus breath and shivered at the sight of her. .'■■ " By the eleven thousand virgins !" heißaid, "your daughter is moTe bean? , tiful than all of them put together. She should be crowned, a queen, and bewitch the world." .< - ' "Nay, nay, Senor," answered Castell .-.-. hurriedly; "let her remain humble and honest, and bewitch her husband." 'So I should say if I were the hus-; .band," he muttered, then stepped for- ' ward,; bowing, to meet her. ; - Now, the light of the silver lamp she held on, high flowed over the two of them, d'Aguilar and Margaret, and< certainly they seemed a well-matched pair. Both were tall and cast by Na--ture in a rich and splendid mould; both had that high air of breeding whiobi comes with ancient blood— for "what bloods are more ancient than 'those of the Jew and the Eastern P— both were slow and stately ■ of movement, lowvoiced, and dignified" of speech. > Caetell h Koted-Tb-anid was ftfra^ } 4iesknew no* of what. .; V -:•• ■. ''■ Peter, entering the room by another , doei^^iad" only^iin his grey clothes^ fojfet' he would not put on gay garments foi: 'the Spaniard, noted it also, and witV the quick instinct of love knew this, magnificent foreigner for a rival and aft; enemy.- " But he was not afraid, >only jealous and angry. Indeed, nothing^ would haye ■ pleased him -better thenr than that the Spaniard should have struck him in. the face, so that within? 'five minutes it might be shown which:/ of them was the better man. It mußl^ come to tliis, he felt, and very glad would he have been if it could come:; at the beginning and not at 'the. end,',bo that one or tfce other of them might be saved much trouble. Then he remembered that he had; promised to >ay or show nothing of how things stood between him and Margaret, and, coining forward, he greeted d'Aguilar quietly but coldly, telling him that his* horses had been stabled, and Tub retinue accommodated: . . ,_ „ . • V ■ The Spaniard thanked him neartiiy enough, and they passed in to' suppto. It was a strange meal for all four or them, yet; outwardly pleaewit enough. : Forgetting his cares, iCastell drank gaily,' and began to talk of ■tJie > many , ; changes which he had seen in his, life, and of the rise and fall of Kings. D'Aguilax talked' also, of the Spanish. wars and policy, for in the one h<i hap seen much service, and of the other Ijwknew every turn. It was easy to aeftv. that he was one of those -who mixed] with courts, and had the ear of Minis-^ ters and Majesty. Margaret also, be* ing keen-witted, and anxious to learn: of the great world that lay beyond Holborn and London town, asked *V M * m tions, seeking to know," amonest other, taings^ what were the true character of Ferdinand, King of Aragon, and Isabella, nis wife, the famous Queen. • "I will fell xqu in few words, ; Se- \ ora. Ferdinand is ! the most ambitious man in Europe,^ f alee also if it servjß his purpose. He lives for>self and gain that is, money and power. These are his gods, for he has no true religion. He' is not clever, but, being very cunning, he will succeed and leave:* famous name behind him.'* "An ugly picture," said Margaret.. " And what of his QueenP" " She," answered d'AgiiUar, "is a , great woman, who knows how to u«ei . the temper of her time apd ao attain her ends. To the world she shows a tender heart, but beneath it lies bid an iron resolution." , " What are those ends 1 ?" asked Margaret again. ; ' ' , " To bring all Spain- under jb^er rule; utterly to crush the Moors ' and. take their territories; to make the. Church; of Christ triumphant- upon; earth; ttf. etamp out heresy ;.to convert or -destroy the Jews," he added slowly, and as h& spoke the words Peter, watching, 6aw ' his eyes open and glitter like a enakefy — " to; bring their bodies to the purirying flames, and their vast wealth into* her treasury, and thus earn tho praise of the faithful upon earth, and for herself a throne in Heaven." For a while there was silence after this speech, then Margaret said boldly: "If heavenly thrxraeß are built of human blood and tears, what stone and mortar do they U6e in hell,, I wonder.'* Then, without pausing for an answer, she Tose. saying -that she was weary, curtseyed to d'Aguilar, her father and Peter, each in turn, and left the hall. When she had gone the talk flagged, and presently d'Aguilar asked for h» men and horses and departed also, saying as he went: — ' "Friend Castell, you will repeat my news to your good kinsman here. I pray for all your ©akes that he may bow his head to what cannot be helped, and thus keep it safe upon his shoul* deis." "What meant the man?" asked Peter,, when the sound of the horses' hoofs had died away. Castel], told him of jphat. tad, passe*

between him and d'Aguilar before sup- ; por, and dwwed him de Ayala's ny i ceipt, adding in a vexed roice: " I have forgotten to repay lum tne gold; it shall bo sent to-morrow. „ " Have no fear ;, h* will come ror it, answered Peter coldly. ". Now, if 1 have my way I will take the risk of these Spaniards' «rords and King Henry's rope, and bide here. " That you must not do," said CasteU earnestly, " for my sake;^d Mar«ret f a, if not for yours. Would you make her a widow before she is a wife? Listen: it is my wish that you travel down to Essex to take delivery i • S your father's land in the Vale of and at once be married, say one short i m^Wm*nof you and Margaret come \ .With me to Dedham?" j Castell shook his head. i here till you return. , "Yes, Sir;, but will you keepher wife? Tne cozening words of SpamSS axe sometimes more deadly than j th t?I SSftta* Margaret has a mcdi- J cine against all such arts," answered . Sot father with a Httle smile, and left r the morrow when Castell told ] Margaret that her loyer must leave >jr j fo* I while that nighWor this Peter , would not do hhnself-sne prayed him. < wen with tears that he woald not , 2nd him so far from her, or that they ■■■■■!S*S go together But he > reasonS'Vith hir kindly, showing her that the latter was impossible, and that if < Peter did not go at once it was prob»bl© that Peter would soon be dead, Srhereas, if he went, there would be but one short month of waiting till the Spaniards had sailed, after which they might .be married and live in peace and So die came to see that this was best .j and wisest and gave wayr but oh I ( heavy were those hours, and sore was } their parting. Essex was no rarjenrney, and to enter into lands which only two days before Peter believed he had - lost for ever no sad errand, while the i mromise that at the end of a single : month he should return and claim his ■ bride hung before them, like a star. Yet they were sad-hearted both, or them, and that star seemed very far . Margaret was afraid lest "Peter ■ might be waylaid upon the road, but he laughed at her, saying that her . father was sending six stout men with him as an escort, and thus companioned he feared no Spaniards. Peter, for ( his part, was afraid lest d'Agmlar . might make love to her while he was , eway. But she laughed at him, saying that all her heart was his, and that . die had none to give to d'Aguilar /or »ny other man. Moreover, that England was a free land in which women, who were no king's wards, maid not l>e led whither they did not wish to go. So it seemed that they had nought to fear, Bave the daily chance of life and , death.,: And yet thpy were afraid. ' "Dear love," said Margaret to him after she had thought a while, " our Toad looks straight and easy, and >et there 7 may be pitfalls in it that we cannot "guess. Therefore, you shall swear one thing to me: That whatever you shall hear or whatever may happen, you will never doubt me as I shall never doubt you. If, for instance, you ehould be told that I nave discarded you, and given myself to some other husband; if even you should believe that you see such a thing signed by my hand, or if you think that you hear ife told to you by my voice— nstill I say, believe it not." " How could such a thing be P' asked Peter anxiously. * "I do not suppose that it could be; I only paint the worst that might happen as a lesson for us both. Heretofore my life has been calm as a summer's day; but who knows when winter storms may rise, and often I have thought that I was born to know wind Hnd Tain, and lightning as w^ll as peace and sunshine. Remember that ■ any father is » Jew, and that to the*" Jews and their children terrible things chance at times. Why, all this wealth might vanish in an hour, and you might find me in a prison, ot clad in jags begging my bread. Now. do you swear?" and she held towards him the gold crucifix that hung upon her bosom. "Aye," he said, "I swear it by this token and by your holy lips," and he kissed first the cross and then her mouth, adding, " Shall I ask the same oath of yoaP" She laughed. " If you will; but it is not needful. Peter, I think that I know you too well; I think that your heart will never stir even if I be dead and you married another. And yet men are men, and women have wiles, so I will swear this: That should you slip, perchance, and I live to learn it, I will try not to judge you harshly." And again she laughed, she who was so certain of her empire over, "this man's heart and body. "Thank you," said Peter; "but for my part I will try to stand straight upon my feet, so should any tales be brought to you of me, sift them well, I pray you." . Then, forgetting their doubts and dreads, they talked of their marriage, which they fixed foT that day month, and of how they would live happily in Dedham Vale. Also Margaret who well knew the house, named tne Old Hall, where they should live, for she had stayed there as a child, gave him jnany commands as to the new arrangement of its chambers and its furnishings, which, as there was money and to £pare, could be as costly as they willed; / saying that she would send him down ■ r all things by wain so soon as he was ready for them. Thus, then, the hours wore away, until at length night came and they took their last meal together, the three of them, for it was arranged that Peter should start at- moonrise, when none were about to see him go. It was not a very happy meal, and, though they made a brave show of eating, but little food passed their lips. Now the horses were ready, and Margaret buckled on '"•"■- Peter's sword and threw his cloak about Bis *houlderß, and he, having shaken Castell by the hand and -bad© him guard' their jewel safely, without words ' kissed Her in farewell,, and went. Taking the silver lamp in her hand, Bhe followed him to the ante-room. At the door he turned and saw her standing there gaaing after him with wide eyes and a strained. white face. At the sight of her silent pain almost his heart failed him, almost refused- to go. Then he remembered,>and went. For a while Margaret still stood thus, until the sound of the horses' hoofs had died away indeed. Then she turned and said: "Father, I know not how it is, but it seems to me that when Peter and I meet again it will be far off, yes, far off upon the 'stormy sea, — but what sea I know not." And without waiting for an answer she climbed the stairs to her chamber, and there wept herself to Bleep. '••■■' Castell watched her depart, then muttered to himself : " Pray God she is not foresighted like so many of our race; and yet why is my own heart co heavy? Well, according to mjj judgment I have done

my best for him and her, and for myself I care nothing." i (To be continued.)