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the vicar sought by every means, stead of blessing was a curse. He by reasoning and by tenderness, came down to find his hearth desoto soften the blow to Emily. She late, and darkened by the spot of seemed to bear it with a passive and shame. rather sullen resignation. She nei- The child of his love had left her ther accepted nor rejected the con- home, and fled without word or solations offered. Months even had line-none knew whither-all, howpassed, and no symptoms of com- ever, guessed with whom. Rankin munication betwixt them was seen ; disappeared at the same time, and so the vicar thought fondly that in it was known that for some time he time all would be well. Å fearful had been realising his property and contradiction met him on the Christ- preparing for flight. mas morn.

This was Arthur Versturme's sorHe came down expecting to re- row-it was a common sorrow. It ceive his Christmas greeting, and was an old story, yet terribly new give his Christmas blessing. There to those who had to act the old was no greeting for him, and in- parts in it.

CHAPTER IV.

“And that was how Tom and I happy, and so was Tom. But he comed to quarl,” said old yeoman wus cruel, wilfil, and wouldn't gie Penrice, who had been telling the up that Rankin, and I wus so story in his own circumlocutory angered by the goings-on that I way to his companion, and had now couldn't bear the sight ov un, and brought down the narrative to his wouldn't allow un a-nist my doors. own wrongs.

So hot blood got ill blood, and Tom “Your son did not assist in the and me never meet but to quarl. abduction, surely ?” said the curate. And then come that elopement and

“No, no," replied the yeoman, throwed all the fat in th’ fire. I vehemently; "he was too honest for couldn't help a-taunting un wi' his that, was Tom. If he had done such friend, and he wus ashamed to upa thing, I wud have disinherited un hould un any longer, and so used then and there, if there hadn't been to get cruel vexed with hisself, and another creature of the name of almost wild wi' me. Penrice on the face of the arth. He At last he comed up to me one was too honourable for that, was day, in his manly, foreright way, Tom. No, 'twas all along of that and says, “Fayther,' says he, 'we'rn ’ere Harry Rankin. That fellow had going on in a very bad way, and no such power over un that he could good 'll come of it. I shall be drove wheedle un into anything, and to do something desperate, or take slock un anywhere ; and they wus to bad courses, and then we shall allays a-coosing about the country, repent it all our lives. So I've hunting and shooting and badger- been thinking, fayther, that we bad baiting, and all kinds of sport and better part for a bit. I'm of age, frolic. Tom, to be sure, didn't join and can take up that money old in any of the racketing, and riot granfaar left me, and go out to see ing, and chorowsing. He hadn't something of the world, and when no turn for that. But he was

I come back, things will have been a-getting oncommon onsettled and forgotten, and we shall go on as onsteady ; and there wus many an hearty as we used to. So, give me ill word spoke betwixt us then. In your blessing, fayther, and I'll go.' coose things got worse. He said I No,' says I, for I was awful cussed was al’ays a-nagging at un, and I in heart that day, ‘I won't give no said he wus al'ays a-aggravating blessing to any pordigal who goeth me by his doings. I was very on- from his fayther's house to spend

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his substance in riotous living.' continued the yeoman. “The pas“There will be no rioting,' says he ; son used to say that every life had ‘so shake bands then, and let us a bit of romance some time or other part friends.' So we shook hands —his was a dark bit, poor dear!” and parted ; but I didn't think be “Yours," remarked the curate, was meaning it really. However, seems to have brought happier he wasn't at breakfast next morn- consequences.” ing, but I wus too proud to ask for “Yes, mine have done me goodun; and he didn't come to dinner, have made life more pleasant and

; and I saw the dame's eyes wus red, more lightsome like. The legacy and then I knowed he was gone. have sartainly give a sort of colour Many a night have I wished that I and a movement to it. But for her, had gived un the blessing.”

I should have gone on in the regular And have you not heard from faarmer way, sowing and reaping, him since?said the curate. and garnering, toiling, and eating, “Oh, yes, we heard from un, or and sleeping ; but she have took us

He went to 'Stralia,—they out of that, and made us shake hands all goes there; and had took to with the world outside the church sheep-farming, and was doing brave, town. 'Tis a good long story too, and had a very fine prospect. But and I al'ays like to begin at the who knows in that outlandish place beginning, and go right through ; what may come? He may go to the but 'tis a brave step to the faarm bad any day, or catch the fever, or yet—so this is my romance. be murdered by them blackamoor “ About the time I was married, fellows, and I shall be left in my and fust comed into the faarm, there old age without chick or chield.” was a young fellow called George

“Not childless, surely,” said the Carthew, who used to come and go curate; “I saw a young lady in your at the Hall. He was a nephy or pew who I thought was your daugh- ward of the squire's, as fine-hearted ter.”

and merry a lad as ever I seed-with “No, no," said the yeoman, with sich a spirit, too, and as gayas a lark. a chuckle, " that wus Lily, as we I was a smartish chap then, and oncall her. She don't belong to our common fond of sporting, though I breed, and don't favour our people was never such a good sportsman as a bit, do she ?

that pordigal Tom. Well, George The curate thought, as he called used to come over to the faarm for up the memory of the sweet delicate the pathridge - shooting, and took face which had made him read the wonderful to me; and if the squire's wrong lesson and stammer in his family wos away, he wud come and text, and then looked down on the spend his holidays with me; and hard, rough countenance of the how he did enjoy hisself, and how old yeoman, that kinship would he wud work at har'est, and how scarcely be established by a family he wud sing and dance with the likeness.

maidens at har'est-home! We wos “No, she was a com-by-chance- cruel fond ov un, the dame espea godsend, my dame says. I call cially, and he was al'ays oncommon her my legacy - a pretty legacy, welcome at Tregarrow. After a year wosn't it?"

or two he went to larn to be a The curate thought that one might lawyer or councillor at a place they have worse bequests made him. call the Temple, but used still com

''Tis a curous story how we com now and then to get a breath of the by her; my dame says that I tell it country, and blow the smell of the to everybody.”

Thames out ov his nostrils, as he The curate suggested that there said. was no reason why he should be an “One day, when 'twos wet, I took exception.

it into my head to look over my “It wos the romance of my life," deeds and papers, and thoft that

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there was something wrong about try and mend all the holes in your one ov'em. This made me very on- deeds now in return.' So then he easy, and Icudn't get it off my mind; nodded to us, and out we goes, so I says to the dame that I shud go George telling me that I made a to a lawyer. Well,' the dame says capital hit about the verdict. -says she, “if you go to the lawyers, “Well, I stayed three or four days 'twill cost a purty passel of money, with un, and we saw all the lions, and there'll be no satisfaction after and had a very jollytime; but I thoft all; why don't ye write to Master I must be going back to the old George about it?'—and so I did, dame and the faarm; so George gives and he writes back, ‘Come up to me the deeds, and says, “There, old me, old boy, and bring your papers.' boy, 'twould be as hard to find a So, after some thought, up I goes, speck of dust in the missus's milkfor 'twas a brave step to Lunnun, pans as a flaw in these.' So I says, and I felt oncommon tired and George, if ever you wants a friend, strange-like when I got there. But you knows where to find un ; one I sets off at once for the Temple, good turn deserves another.' .Yes,' and there I found un in his cham- says he, 'I may want one, God bers, as he called it, awaiting break- knows, bad enough some day, and fast for me. He was hearty as ever, I'll claim your promise, old Guy' and there was two or three friends So we parted. with un, as free and hearty as his- “ 'Twas a bravish long time afore self; for they comed up at once, and we saw un again; when, one aftershook hands, and called me old fel noon, as the missus was a-knitting, low. Arter breakfast, George says, and I a-smoking my after-dinner “Now, then, old Guy, for business, pipe, in he walks, a-leading by the and I must take you and your papers hand what I thoft was a chield at to our great conveyancing-man.' So first, until he says, 'Here, old Guy, off we went, and I wos 'specting to I've brought my little wife to see be showed into some fine place sure, you ;' and she was little, sure. Such and was quite throwed back to find a tiny thing, but with such a sweet us in a little dark dingy room, so purty face, with long fair curls fallclose and stuflling that I could hardly ing over it. She was shy at first, breathe. There was a dingy, shabby but soon got at home with the misold gentleman, too, sitting in a sus, and smiled and larfed so purty shabby chair, with a heap of papers like, 'twas quite a treat to look upon afore un on the table. This, sir, her. Now,' says George, if you said George, a-going up to un, ‘is can give this giantess of mine housemy friend that I spoke about, with room, I will leave her with you. I the title-deeds.' Ah,' says he brought the little woman to the putting the glass to his eye, a cha- Hall to get a few roses in her pale racter, eh! Ganus rustycus !' I cheek from the country air, but the never knowed what he meant, for I squire and all his belongings are off was never supposed to be a ganius for the Continent to-morrow; so I in any way. However, as he looked came to see if you could take the up I saw that 'twas Sergeant Thun- little mumper in. In coose we was derston, the great councillor at our agreeable enough, and so she stayed 'sizes. "How be, sir ?' says I; 'you wi' us. I thoft at first that she don't know me, but I wos foreman wud be too delicate for our coose of the jury in the great Trevean living and rough ways, but in a mine case. Lor', how you did a little bit she got used to 'em, and turn and twist us which way you was then as happy and merry as a liked then! I wos never easy in my bird. The dame fitted up a little conscience quite about that verdict chamber in the turret for her. We since.' 'Ah,' says he, smiling in a used to call it the Owletry, 'cause gashly sort of way, as I made a two old white owls had took up hole in your conscience then, I must their quarters in the thatch above; VOL. XC.-NO. DLIV.

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but they had multiplied so, that I dame, and bow and arrows for Tom. was obligated to make 'em immi- And now com my bit of romance. grate to the barn. Well, this cham- One market-day the Boots comes up ber was made all white and tidy and says that a gentleman wonts and purty, and she was put there. to speak to me in the inn. Arterwards we al’ays called it the I goes; and there wos a stiff, prim Dove's Nest. The dame, too, thoft man in rusty black, and there was our fare was too coose for her, and a little maid a-lying half asleep on wanted to coodle her with her kick- the sofy. Mr Penrice, I believe, shaws, and pomps, and vanities, as I says he. “Yeoman Penrice,' says I, call'em. But she took to the brown 'at your service. The same, I bread and the milk quite hearty, suppose,' he saith. 'I have to deand the roast beef, and sometimes liver to you a charge and a letter even a bit of straiky bacon and from your late friend George Cargreens. But milk was her parti- thew. My late friend; why, sure, cular fancy. Lor’-a-massy, how she George ben't dead?' The grim man wud drink the milk and cream! She nodded. “And his little wife ' al’ays had her mouth in the milk- 'Dead too,' he says. I never had pan aʼmost, and I used to say she such a turn in my life; my heart was like the caalves, and had al'ays went quite cold, and my limbs went a white spot of milk on her nose. all of a tremble. I was never good So she growed quite blooming and at crying, but I cud have cried right hearty, and so frolicsome. She was out like a woman then, except for al’ays coosing about the house or the grim man. ‘Perhaps, Mr Pengarden. The dame said she would rice,' says he, 'you had better read com shooting in like the sunshine, this letter.' 'Twas from George, dance around one, and then shoot very short, but I knows it by heart. out again. You could hear her, too, It went thusall over the place, singing like a bird, and larfing; Lor’-a-massy, what a “ DEAR OLD GUY,-I am dying, larf it was !—the purtiest moosic I and the dear little woman is gone ever heard.”

before me.

We leave one little The curate muttered beneath his orphan girl, without a friend in the breath

world. Will you give her a shelter “ Through the very heart it thrilleth, and bread? I know old Guy will

When from crimson-threaded lips do this for the sake of old times, Silver-treble laughter trilleth."

and this quiets my last hours. God “Just so," said old Penrice, “that bless you, dear old boy.--Yours, was just the very way it was with

'GEORGE CARTHEW.' So we felt cruel grieved when George comed to take her away ; And then there was a P.S. — 'I and when she was gone, the place send with the child the only thing seemed duller and darker, and I I have of any value.' said to the dame that I thoft the “Is this the little maid then?' autumn weather had shut in very says I, going up to her, and taking early.

her on my lap; and will she com “ We never saw them again. and live with the old faarmer?' She Soon arter Georgey got a fine place put her little arms round my neck, in Ingy, and took the little woman and looked up, just like her mother. out with un. We had one letter ‘Do you accept the trust then ?' from 'em there, but 'twere wrote so says the grim man. 'In coose I close, and so cut and smoked, that do,' says I. Where should George's we cudn't make much ov it. There orfling find a home 'cept under my was a box too comed from Lunnun, roof-tree?' 'And you agree to with a drinking-cup made out of keep her until claimed by her buffalo's horn for me, and some friends ?' 'Yes,' says I; 'and I cheny and knick-knacks for the hope 'twill be long enough afore

us.

that time com.' 'It is my duty, programme of instruction, ore rothen, to give you this also,' he says, tundo, as though he felt rather proud giving me a box, with something in of it. The curate, however, heaved it, tho' I didn't take much note of a sigh, which might have done duty it, and p'rhaps you will sign this as a groan, at hearing this rôle of paper.' I thoft it oncommon queer accomplishments for a young lady. to sign for the little maid, as tho' “Then,” continued he, “the porshe'd been a head of cattle or a digal taught her to be a beautiful pack of wool, but I did—and I was hosswoman, and bought a filly for oncommon glad when the grim man her. Lor'-a-massy! how I stared refused to go back to Tregarrow. when I looked in my banker's book So when the little maid had took and saw the price of that filly. somewhat to eat, I orders a po-shay, 'Twould have bought I don't know puts in her little chist, and away how many steers.' we drove. Lor’-a-massy, how the “ But, p’rhaps," hinted the cupeople did stare to see me in a po- rate, “the young lady's friends, if shay! They thoft I was canvassing they reclaimed her, might expect the country; and the dame, too, to find her versed in the more she rins out in a flurry as we drové modern accomplishments.” up to the door, and looked quite “ Then they should have looked startled and 'mazed like, when I out for that theirselves; but I don't said, 'Here, dame-here's a found- think they would have much right ling and orfling forto nus.' But when to complain even about all that she knowed the rights, she took the fal-lal larning, for Lily used to go little maid in her arms, and hugged with Miss Emily to the squire's and kissed her. So she wos put at governess for all that, only I foronce into the Dove's Nest, and from bid the Latten. No, thank God, I that time we took her to our home, wudn't hear of that. There was a and she was to us as a daughter. lady too come to the Hall, a sister And

that's how I com by my legacy.” of the squire's, and she brought “ It must have been a great her little daughter with her : the charge,” remarked the curate, to little maid was in a very bad waybring up a young lady like that ?” a-dying of consumption—and they

“Oh, no! my dame can rear any- did everything to indulge her. So thing, from a kitten or a calf to a she took a fancy to Lily, and wud chield. She brings up everything have her there for hours, sometimes hearty and keenly. Everything days with her; and the mother, thrives under the dame."

for a return like, taught her parley“But you must have found some vous-ing and ’talianosing, not with difficulty about education in this my knowledge, tho' no bad have remote part of the world ?"

com ov it, nor no good either that “Edication ! oh, there be some I knows ov." things which edicate theirselves, "Oh," said the curate, “it must and she wos one. Lily wos al’ays be a great advantage to have acout in the fields and the woods, and quired the languages under such in the sunshine among the flowers, circumstances." and with the birds, and the beasts, “Well, I don't know about adand the bees; and I'm sure that she vantages ; she can never find anylarnt more thus than from all the body to speak 'em here. To be old books, especially the old Latten. sure, she had once a chance with Then the missus was a bewtiful her Italiane ; a poor little 'Talian needlewoman, and taught her to boy com to the faarm one hem and sew, to spin, and to make footsore and worn out wi' hunger cream and cheeses, and seed-cakes, and travel. Lily went up and to cure hams and pickle onions, and spoke to’m, and at the sound of his presarve plums, and suchlike.' own tongue his eye brightened, and

The yeoman poured forth this he jumped up for joy. It seemed

lay all

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