Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 4 October 1877 — Page 7

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PUT YOURSELF IJV HIS PLACE.

A Ncvsl of Thrilling Interest About tha Great Strikes in

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BY CHARL&S READK.

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Continued Iron Last Issue.

A'l this time, Gracc Carden was kneel ing on the snow, and was, literally a heap oi I.IUW. She was patient and composed now, and tell a gentle sleep stealing over.

That sleep would have been her deat»i. iJut, all of a sudden {something heavy touched her clothes, and startled ^her, and two dark objects passed her.

They were animals. In a moment it darted through her mind that animals are wiser than man in some things. She got up with difficulty, for her limbs were safltfiied, and lolloped them.

The dark foams struggled on( before. They knew the ground, and soon took her to the edge of that very stream into which Coventry had fallen.

Tliey all three went within yard olt Mr Coventry, and still they pursued their way and Grace hoped tfyey were making for some shelter. She now called' aloud to Mr. Coventry, thinking he muit be on before her l|ut lie had not recovered hi» SvlUCS. I

Unfortunately, the cry startled the sheep and they made a rush, ahd she could not keep up with them: she toiled, bhe called, she prayed for strength but they left htr behind, and she could see their very lorms no more. Then she cried out in agony, and still with that power of sell-excitement, which her se& posess in an eminent, degree, she struggled on and on, beyond her strength,, till, at last she fell down from sheer exhaustion, and tue snow lell last upon her body.

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But, even assha lay, tshe heard a tinkling. she took it tor sheep bells, and started up once more, and once more cried to ir. Coventry and this time he heard her, and shook oft* his deadly leth argy, and tried to hobble towards her voice.

Meantime, Grace struggled towards the sound, and lo, alight was before her, a fight gleaming red and dullish in the laden atmosphere. With her remnant of life strength, she dashed at it, and found a wall in her way She got over it spme-. iiow, and fcaw the light quite close, and heard the ringing ot steel on steel. f^She cried out tor help, tor she felt herself failing. She tottered aiong the wall of the building, searching for a door. She found the porcn. Site found the church door,

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by this time she wtn

quite spent her senses reeled her ory was A moan. Shekuocked once with her hands. Shu tried to knock ujjain but the door lKuv suddenly Oj *. .i, und, in the vain endeavor to knock .tguin, her helpless body, like a pillar ol snow, 'ell forward but Henry Little taught her directly, «nu then Kite clutched hi.n teebly, by mere instinct. ... I lie uttered a cry ot love and alarm. She opened her hlmy eyes and stared at him. ller cold neek and white chcek rested on his bare and glowing arm.

The moment he saw it was really Giacc Carden that had fallen inanimate into his arms, Henry Little uttered a loud cry oflove and terror, and, putting his other sinewy arm under her, carried her swiftly off to. his fifes, uttering little moans of tear and pitv as he went he laid her down by the fire, and darted to tlib forgd, and blew it to a white heat and then darted back to her, and kissed her cold hands with pretty moans jjt love and then blew up the other"v fires and then back i) her, and patted her hands, and kissed them with all hie. soul, and drew them to his bosom to warm them and drew her head to his heart to warm her and all with pretty moans oflove, and fear, and puy and the tears rained out of his cye$ at sight of ner heipless condition, and the tears letl upo'n her brow and her hands and all this vitality and love soon electrified her ,she opened her eyes, and smiled faintly,' Hut such a smile, and murmured, "it's you," and cloied her eyes again. then he par.ted out,"Yes, it is I,—a friend. 1 won't hurt you,— I won't tell you how I love you any more,—or.ly nve! Don't give way You stiall marry who you like. Yoii shall never be thwarted, nor worried, nor made love to again only be 'rave and live don't rob the world of the only angel that is in it. Mave mercy, and 'live!. I'll never ask more of you than that. Oh, how pale! 1 am frightened. Cursed flirts, have you no warrmh is vou?" And he was at the bellows' again. Ana the next moment back to her, imploring her, and sighing over her, and saying the wildest, sweetest, drollest tilings, such ai only those who love can say, in moments when.hearu ars bursting.

How now Her cneek that was so white is pink—pittkec-^red-^scarlet. Sue it blushing.

She had closed her eyes at Love's eries. Perhaps she was not-altogether unwilling to hear that divine music of the heart, so long as sUe was not bound to reply and remonstrate,—being insensible.

But now she speaks, faintly, out clearly, Don't be frightened. 1 promise not to die. Piay don't cry so." Then she put out h»r hand to him, and turned her head away, and cried herself gently, but plenteously.

Henrv, kneeling by her, clasped the hand she lent htm with both his, and drew it to his panting heart in ecstasy.

Grace's cheeks were rosy red. They remained so a little while in silence.

Henry's heart was too lull of beatitude td speak. He drew her a little nearer to the glowing fires, to revive her quite but btill .kneeled by her, and clasped her hand to his heart. She lelt it beat, and turned her blushing brow away, but made no resistance: she was too weak. •Hallo!' cried anew voice, that jarred with thfe whole scene and Mr. Coventry hobbled in sight. tie nased in utter amazement on the picture before him.

CHAPTER XII.

Grace sna'ched her hand frofti Heftry, and raised herself with a vigor that contrasted with her late weakness. "Oh, it is Mr. Coventry. How wicked forme to forget him for a moment! Thank Heaveti you are alive. Where have y»u been?' 'I fell into the mountain stream, and it rolled me down, nearly to here, I think I must have fainted on the bank. I found myself lying covered with snow it was your beloved voice that recalled me to life.'

Henry turned yellow, and rose to his feet. v.Grace observed him, and replied,

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Mr. Coventry, this is

too high-flown. Let us both return thanks to the Almighty, who has

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reserved us, and, in the next place, to Little we should both be dead but for him." Thei before lie could reply, she turned to Little and said beseechingly. '-Mr. Coventry has been the companion of my danger." "Oh, I'll do the best I can for him," said Heniy, doggedly. "Draw nearer the fire, sir." He theu put some coal on the forge, and blew up an amazing fire and set htm to blow at the small grates in the mausoleum. He then produced a pair of woolen stockings. "Now, Miss Carden," said he, "just step into that pew, if you please, and make a dressing-room ot it.'

She demurred, faintly, but he insilted, and put her into the great pew, and shut her in. 'And now, please take off your shoes and stockings, and hand them over the pew to me. •Oh, Mr. Little you are giving yourself so much trouble. 'Nonsense. Do what you are bid.' lie said this a little roughly.

I'll do whatever you bid me. said sW meekly: and instantly took off her dripping shoes and stockings, and .handed them over the pew. She received, in return, a ntce warm pair of worsted stockings. 'Put on these directly,'said he, while I warm vour shoes.'

He dashed all the wet he could out of the shoes, and, taking them to the forge, put hot cinders in: ha shook the cindcrs up ai.d cown the shoes so quickly, they had not time to burn, but only to warm and dry them. He advised Coventry to do the same, and said he was sorry he had only one pair of stockings to lend. And that was a lie: for he was glad he had only one pair to lend. When he had quite dried the shoes, he turned round, and found Grace was peeping overthepew, and looking ineolerably lovely in the fire-light. He kissed the shoes furtively, and gave thetn to h»*r. She shook her head in a remonstrating wuy, but her eyes filled. lie turned away, and, rousing all his generous manhood, said, "Now you must both cat something, before you gp." He produced a Yorkshire pie, ana some bread, and a bottle of wine. He gave Mr. Coventry a saucepan, and set him to heat the wine then turned up his sleeves to the shoulder, blew his beliows, and, with his pincers, took a lath of steel and placed it in the white embers. "I have only got one knife, and you won't like to eat with that. I must forge you one apiece."

Then Grace came out! ahd stood looking on, while he forged knives, like magic, before the e?es of his astonished guests. Her feet were now as warm as a toast, and her healthy young body could resist all the rest. She stood, with her back to the nearest pew, and 'her-"' hands against the pew too, and looked with amaze­

ment,

and dreamy complacency, at the strange scene betore her: a scene well worthy ol Salv.itor Ro-.it: though, in fact, in .t painter never had the luck to hit or. -O variegated a subject.

Three broad bands ol light shot from tie fires, expanded in size, but weakened in intensity. These lights, and the candles at the west end, revealed in a strange combination the middle ages, the nineteenth century, and eternal nature,

Nature first. Snow gleaming on the windows. Oh. it was cosy to see it gleam and to think "Aha! you all but killed me now King Fire warms both thee and me."

Snow flakes, ol enormous size, softly descending, and each appearing a diamond brooch, as it passed through the channels of fiery light.

The middle ages.—Massive old arches, chipped, and stained a mouldering altarpiece, dog's-eared (Henry had nailed up again all but the top corner, and in it still faintly (gleamed the Virgin's golden crown). Pulpit, richly carved, but mouldering: gaunt walls, streaked and strained by time. At the west end, one saint—the" last ot many—lit by two candles, and glowing ruby red across the intervening gulf of blackness: on the nearest wall an inscription, that still told, in rusty letters, how Giles de la Beche had charged his lands with six merks a year forever, to btiy bread and white watered herrings, the same to be brought into Cairnhope Church every Sunday in Lent, and given to two poor men and four women and the same on Good Friday with a penny dole, and on that day, the clerk to^tolk the bell at three ot the clock after noon, and read the lamentation of a sinner and received one groat.

Ancient monuments, sculptures, with here an arm gone, and here a head, that yet leaked half alive in the weird and partial light.

And between one of the mediaeval sculptures, and that mouldering picture of the Virgin, stood a living horse, munching his corn and in the foreground wa6 a portable forge, a mousoleum turned Into fires and ?*hot plate, and a young man type of his century, forging table-knives amidst the wrecks of another age.

When Grace had taken in the whole scene with wonder, her eye was absorbed by this one figure, a model of mahly strength, and skill, and grace. How light ly he stepped how easily his left arm blew the coals to a white heat, with blue fiames rising from them. Hpw deftlv he drew out the white steel. With what tremendons force his first blows fell, and scattered hot steel around. Yet all that force was regulated to a hair-he beat he moulded, he never broke. Then came the lighter blows and not one left it. In less than a minute the bar was a blade. It was work incredibly unlike his method in carving yet, at a glance, Grace saw it was also perfection, but in an opposite style. In carving, the hand of a countess in forging, a blacksmith's arm.

She gazed with secret wonder and admiration ant thi cornparison was to the disadvantage of Mr. Coventry for he sat shivering, and the other seemed all power. And wemen adore power.

When Little had forged the knives and forks, and two deep saucers, with magical celerity, he plunged them into water a minute, and the/ hissed he sawed off the rim oi a pew, and fitted handles.

Then he washed hi9 face and hands and made himself dry and glowing let down his sleeves, and served them some Yorkshire pie, and bread, and salt, and stirred a little sugar in the wine, and poured it into the saucers, "Now eat a bit, both of you, before you go."

Mr. Coventry responded at once to the invitation. But Grace said timidly, "Yes, if you will eat with us." "No, no," said h2v "I've not been perished with snow, nor rolled in a river ."

Grace hesitated still but Coventry at­

tacked the pfe directly. It was delicious. •'By Jove, sir," spid he, "you ft/e the prince of blacksmiths." "Blacksmiths!" said Grsicei rotoring high. But Little only smiled satirically.

Grace, who was really faint with hunger, now ate a little and then the host mack her sip some wine.

The food and wine did Mr. Coventry so much good, that he began to recover his superiority, and expressed his obligations to Henry in atone which was natural, and not meant to be offensive but yet it was so, under all circumstances there was ao underlying tone of condescension. It made Grace tear he would offer Henry his purse at leaving.

Henry himself writhed under it but said nothing. Grace, however, saw his ire, his mortification, and his jealously, in his face, and that irritated her but she did not choose to show either of the men how much it angered her.

She was in a most tryiug situation, and all the woman's wit and tact were keenly on their guard.

What she did was this she did not utter one word of remonstrance, but she addressed most of her remarks to Mr. Little and, though the remarks were nothing in themselves, she contrived to throw profound respect into them,' Indeed, she went beyond respect. She took the tone of an inferior addressing a superior.

This was nicely calculated to soothe Henry, and also "to make Coventry, who was a" man of tact, change his own manner.

Nor was .it altogether without that effect. But then it annoyed Coventry, ar made him wish to end it.

After awhile he said, 'My dear Grace, it can't be far from Raby Hall. I think you had better let me tkke you home at once.'

Grace colored high, and bit her lip. Henry was green with jealous anguish. •Are you quite recovered yourself?' said Grace, demurely, to Mr. Coventry. "Quite: thank? to this good fellow's hospitality,"

Then WOULD you mind going to Raby, ind sending some people for me I really feel hardly equal to fresh exertion just yet."

This proposal brought a flush of pleasure to Henry's cheek, and mortified Mr. Coventry cruelly in his turn.

What, go and leave you here I Surely you can not be serious. '•'Oh, I don't wish you to leave me only you seemed in a hurry."

Henry was miserable agai n. Coventry did not let well alone. He alluded delicately but tenderly to what had passed between them, and said he could not bear her out of his sight until she was safe at Raby. The words and the tone were those of a lover, and Henry was in agony: thereupon Grace laughed it oft "Not bear me out of your sight I" said she. "Why you ran away from me, and tumbled into the river. Ha! ha! ha! And" (very seriously) we should both be in another wjrld but for Mr. Little. "You are very cruel, said Mr. Coventry. When you gave up in despair, Iran tor help* You punish me for failure punish me savagely.

Yes, I was ungenerous, said Grace. Forgive me. But she said it rather cooly, and not with a very penitent air.

She added an explanation more calculated to please Henry tnan him. 'Your gallantry is always graceful and it is charming, in a drawing room but in this wild piace, and just after escaping the grave, let us talk like sensible people. It you and I set out tor Raby Hall alone, we shall lose our way again, and perish, to a cet tainty. But 1 think Mr. Little must know the way to Raby Hall.' •Oh, then,' said Coventry, catching at her idea, 'perhaps Mr. Little would add to the great obligation, under which he has laid us both, by going to Raby Hall and sending assistance hither,' 'I can't do that,' said Henry, roughly. "And that is not at all what I was going to propose," said Grace, quietly. "But perhaps you would be so good as to go with us to Raby Hall? Then I should fe«l safe and I want Mr. Raby to thank you, for I feel how cold and unmeaning all I have said to you is I seem to have no words." Her voice taltered, and her sweet eyes filled. '•Miss Carden," said the young man, gravely, "I can't do that. "Mr. Raby is no fritnd of mine, and he is a bigoted old man, who would turn me out of this place if he knew. Come, now, when you talk about gratitude to me for not letting you be starved to death, you make me blush, Is there a man in the world that wouldn't ?—But this I /io say it would be rather hard if you two were to go away, and cut my throat in return: and, if you open your mouths ever so little, either of you, you wiI.Lcut my throat. Why, ask yourselves, have I set up my workshop in such a place as this,—by choice? It takes a stout heart to work here. I can tell you, and a stoilt heart to Bleep here over dead bones "1 see it all. The Trades Unions "That is it. So, now, there are only two ways. You must promise me never to breathe a word to any living soul, or I must give up my livelihood, and leave the country." "What, can not you trust me? Oh, Mr. Little!"

No, no it is this gentleman. He is a stranger lo me, you know and, you see, ray fife may be at stake, as well 'as iny means." "Mr. Coventry is a gentleman, and a man of houor. He is incapable of betraying you."

I should hope so," said Coventry. "I pledge you the word of a gentleman I will never let any human creature kuow that you are working here." •'Give me your hand on that, if you please."

Coventr gave him his hand with warmth and evident sincerity. Young Little was reassured. "Come," Mid he, "I teel that I can trust you both. And, sir, Miss*Carden will tell 'you what happened to me in Cheethain's works and then you will understand what 1 risk upon your honor." "I accept the responsibility, and I thank you for giving me this opportunity to show how deeply I feel indebted to vou. "That is square enough. Well, now my mind is at ease about that, I'll tell you what I'll do I won't take you quite to Raby Hall but I'll take you so near to it you can't miss it and then I'll go back to my work."

He sighed deeply at her lonely pros pect, and Grace heard him, "Come," said he, almost violently, and, led the way out of the church. But he stayed behind to lock the door, and then joined them.

They all three went together, Grace in the middle.

WEEKLY

There was mow but little snow falling, and tht air was not so thick but it was mc st laborous walking and soon Mr. Coventry, who was stiff and in pain, fell a little behind, and groaned as he hobbled on.

Grace whispered to Henry: "Be generous. He has hurt himself so.' Tli made Hennr groan in return. But he said nothing. He just turned back to Coventry,—'You can't get on without help, fcir lean on me.'

The act was friendly, the tone surly, Coventry accepted the act, and noted the tone in his memory.

When Grace had done this, she saw Henry misunderstood it, and she was sorry, and waited an opportunity to restore the balance: but, ere one came, a bell was heard in the air the great alarmbell of Raby Hall.

Tben faint voices were heard of people calling to each other here and there in the distance. "What is it?" asked Grace.

Henry replied,—"What should it 'be? The whole country is out after you. Mr. Raby has sense enough for that." "Oh, I hope they will nof see th§ light in the church, and find you out." "You are very good to think of that. Ah 2 There's a bonfire: and here comes a torch. I must go and quench my fires. Good-bye. Miss Carden. Good-even-ing, sir."

With this,.hje retired but, as he went, he sighed, Grace said to Coventry,—"Oh, I forgot to ask him a question:" and ran after him. "Mr. Little

He heard and came buck to her. She was viblenty agitated I can't leave you so," she said. "Give jne your hand. *-v1

He gave it her. "I mortified you and you have saved me." She took his hand, and, holding it gently in both her little palms, sobbed out,—"Oh, think of something I can do, to show my gratitude, my esteem. ray, pray, pray "Wait two years for me." s« "Oh, not that. I don't mean that." "That or nothing. In two years, I'll be as good a gentleman as HE is. I'm not risking my lite in that church, for nothing. If you have one grain of pity or esteem for me, wait two years." "Incurable!" she murmured: but he was gone.

Coventry heard the prayer. That was loud and earnest enough. Her reply he could not hear.

She rejoined him, and the torch came rapidly forward. It was carried by a lass, with her gown pinned nearly to her knees, and displaying grand and powerful limbs she was crying, like the tenderest woman, and striding through the snow, like young giant, yj

When the snow first came down, Mr. Raby merely ordered large fires to be lighted and ted in his guests' bed-rooms he leared nothing worse for them than a good wetting. when dinner-time came, without them, he began to be anxious, and sent a servant to the little public-houre, to inquire if they were there,

The servant had to walk through the snow, and had been gone about an hour and Mr. Raby was walking nervously up and down the hall, when Jael' Dence burst in at the front door, as white as sheet, and gasped out in his face: ''THE GABRIEL HOUNDS

Rabv ran out directly, and sure enough that strange pack a in the very house. It was appalling. He as dumb with awe tor a moment. Then he darted into the kitchen and ordered them to ring the great alarm-bell incessantly then into the yatd, and sent messengers to the village, and to all his tenants, and in about an hour there were fifty torches, and as many sheep-bells directed upon Cairnhope hill and, as men came it) from every quarter, to know why Raby's great alarm bell was ringing, they were armed with torches And sent up Cairnhofe.

At last the servant returned from "The Colly Dog," with the alarming tidings that Miss Carden and Mr. Coventry, had gone up the hill, and never returned. This, however, was hardly news. The Gabriel hounds always ran before calamity.

At about eleven o'clock, there being still no news of them, Jael Dence came to Mr. Raby wringing her hands, "Why do all the men go east for them?" "Because they are on the east side." '•How can you tell that? They have lo«t their way." "I am afraid so," groaned Raby. "Then *hy do you send all the men as it they hadn't lost their way? East side ef Cairnhope! why that is wUere they ought to be but it is not where they are, man.' •You area good girl, and I'm a fool cried Raby. 'Whoever comes in alter this, I'll send them up by the old church.' •Give' me a torch, and I'll run myself.' •Ay, do, and I'll pit oft fny boots, and after you.'

Then Jael got a torch, and kilted^ her gown to her knees, and went striding through the snow with detperate vigor, crying as she went, for her fear was great and her hope was small, from the mo ment she heard the Gabriel hounds.

Owing to the torch, GraCe saw her first, ana uttered a little scream: a loud scream ot rapture replied: the torch went anywhere, and gentle and simple were Ibcked in each other's arms, Jael sobbing for very joy after terror, and Grace for sympathy, and aho because she wanted to cry, on more accounts than one.

Another torch came on, and Jael cried triumphantly, "This way, Squire! She is here!" and kissed „h$r violently again.

Mr. Raby came Up, aritT took Her in his arms, without a word, being- broken with emotion: and. after he had shaken Coventry by both hands, they all turned homewards, and went so fast that Coventry gave in with a groan.

Then Grace told Jael what had befallen him, and just then another torch came in, held by George the blacksmith, who, at sight of the party, uttered a stentorian cheer, and danced upon the snow.g 'Behave, now,' stud Jael, 'and here's the gentleman sore hurt in the river Geordie, come and make a chair with me.'

George obeyed, and put out his hands, with the fingers upwards Jae) did the same, with the fingers downwards: they took hands, and, patting their stalwart arms under Coventry, told him to fling an arm around each of their necks he did so, and up he went he was no more than a leather-to this pair, the strongest man and woman in Cairnhope.

As they went along, he told them his adventure in the stream, and, when they heard it, they-ejaculated to each other,

tndcondOttd witte him kindly, and assured him he was alive by a miracle. Theje tkached Raby, and, in the great tall* tt~e Squire cdllected his people and gave his orders. "Stop the bell. Broach a barrel of ale, and keep open house, so long as malt, and bacon, and cheese last. Turn nekfce* body nor beast trom my door this night, or may God shut His gate in your facei. Here are two guineas, George, to ring the church bells, you and your fetlows but snp here first. Cans of hot water up stairs, for us. Lay supper, instead of dinner brew a bowl of punch. Light all the Yule candles, as if it was ChrUlmaseve. But first down on your knees, all of ye, whilst 1 thank God, who has baffled those Gabriel Hellhounds for once, and saved a good man and a bonny lass from a dog's ath."

They all went down on their knees, on the marble flow, directly, Mnd the Squire uttered a fiw words ot hearty thanksgiviug, and there was scarcely a dry eye.

Then the guebtt.weht up 6tairs, and had their hot baths, and changed their clothes, and came down to supper in the biasing room.

Whilst they were at supper, the old servant who waited on them said something in a low voice to his master. He replied that he would speak to the man in a

As soon as he was gone, Miss "Carden said in French, 'Did you hear that?' 'No.' 'i.-e 'Well,.- .1 did. Now, mind your romise. We shall have to b. You had better say noth-

Let me speak for you ladles fib

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much better than gentlemen." Mr. Raby came bacit, and Grace waited to see if he would tell her. I do not think he intended to, at first but he observed her eyes inquiring, and said, "One ot the men who was out after you tonight has brought in word that there is a light in Cairnhope old church." "Do you believe it -a! "No. But it is a curious thing: a. fortnight ago (1 think I told you) a shepherd brought me the same story. He had seen the church on fire at least he said so. But mark the paralyzing effect of superstition. My present informant no sooner saw this light,—probably a reflection from one of the distant torches—than he cooly gave up searching for you.-

4They

are dead,'

says he, 'and the spirits in the old church are saying mass for their souls. I'll go to supper.' So he came here to drink my ale, and lell his cock-and-oull sto-

Grace put in a word with a sweet, candid face. 'Sir, if there had been alight in that church, should we not have seen

it?'

'Why, of course you would: you must have been within a hundred yards of it in vour wanderings. I never thought ot that,'

Grace breathed again. "However, we shall soon know, I have sent George and another man right up to the church to look. It .is quite clear now

Grace felt very anxious, but she forced on a careless air. And suppose, after all, there should be a light?' 'Then George has hi* orders to come back and tell me if there is a light, it is no ghost nor spirit, but some smuggler, or poacher, or vagrant, who is desecrating that sacred place and I shall turn out with fifty men, ana surround the church, and capture the scoundrel, and make an example of him.'

Grace turned cold and looked at Mr. Coventry. She surprised a twinkle of satisfaction in his eye. She never forgot it.

She sat on thorns, and was so distraite she could hardly answer the simplest question

At last, after an hour of cruel suspense, the servant came in, and said "George ia eoir.e back, sir." ,%•: "Oh, please let him in here, and tell us." "By all means. Send him in."

George appeared, the next moment, in the doorway. "Well?" said Mr. Raby. •Well?' said Grace, pale, but.self-pos-sensed •Well,' said George, Mt is all a lie. Th' old church is aa black as my hat.' •I thought as much,' said Mr. Raby. •There, go atid get your supper.'

Soon after this Grace Went up to bed, and Jael catne to her, and they talked by the tire while she was curling her hair She was in high spirits, and Jael eyed her with wonder and curiosity •But, Miss,' said Jael, the magpie was right. Oh, the foul bird! That's the on ly bird that wouldn't go into tji^j ark with Noah and his folk"' •'Indeed! I was not aware of the circumstance ''T'wa.1 so, Miss and I know the reason. A very old woman told me.'

She must have been very old indeed, to be an authority on that subject. Well what was the reason?' •She liked better to perch on the roof of the ark, and jabber over the drowning world that was why. So, ever after that, when a magpie flies across, turn back, or look to meet ill-luck.' •That is to say the worst creatures are stronger than their Creator, and can bring us bad luck against His will. And you call yourself a Christian? Why this is Paganism, They were frightened at ravens, and you at magpies. A fig for your magpies! and another for your Gabriel hounds! God is high above them all.' •Ay, sure but these are signs of His will." Trouble and all comes from God. And so, whenever you see a magpie, or hear those terrible hounds—' 'Then tremble! for it is alLto end in a bowl of punch, and a roaring fire and Mr. Raby, that passes for a Tartar, be ing so kind to me and me being in better spirits than I ht ve been for ever so long.' 'Oh, Miss!' 'And Oh, Miss, to you. What is the matter? I have been in danger! Very well am I the first? I have iad an adventure! AH the better. Besides it has shown :ne what good hearts there ate in the world, yours amongst the rest.' (Kissiug her.) 'Now don't interrupt, but listen to the words, of the wise and their dark sayings. Excitement is a blessing. Young ladies need it more than any body. Hall the toolish things we do, it is because the old neople are so stupid and don't provide us enough innocent excitement Dancing till five Is a good thing uow and then only that is too bodily, and ends in a headache, and feeling stupider than before. But to-ni&ht, what glorious excitement!' i'oo late lor dinner—drenched with snow— lost on a mountain—anxiety—fear—t he Gabriel hounds—terror—despair—resignation—sudden relief—warm stock­

ings—delightful

sympathy—petted on

every side—hungry—happy—fires— punch! I never lived til* to-night—I

never relished life tiil now. How cotfIA I? I never saw Delth nor Danger near enough to be worth a straw."

Jael made no attempt to arrest this flow of spirits. She waited quietly (ot single pause, and then she laid her haml on the young lady's, and, fastening her eyes on her, she said quietly,— "You have seen RIM."

Grace Carden's face was scarlet in a moment, and she looked with a rueful imploring glance into those great gray searching eyes off Jael Dence.

Her fine silvery tones of eloquence went off into.a piteous whine. 'You are very cunning—to believe in a magpie* And she hid her blushing face in her hands. She took an early opportunity of sending sagacious rustic t5 bed.

Next day Mr. Coventry was so stiff and ""sore he did not come down to breakfast. But Grace Carden, though very sleepy, made her appetance, and had a most affectionate conversation with Mr. Raby. She asked leave to christen him sgain. •I must, call yoy something, you know^ after all this. Mr. Raby is coki. God~ apa is childish. Wfeat do you say to**-*

Jncle?'* .• He laid he should be delighted. Then she dipped her forefinger in water. He drew back with horror. 'Come young la'd)said he, *1 know it is an age of burlesque. But let us spare the sacraments, and the altar, and suclt trifles." •I'm not half so wicked as you thinkf said Grace. Then she wrote'Uncle' oft his brow, and so settled that matter.

Mr. Coventry cams down about noon, and resumed his courtship. He was very tender, spoke of the perils they had ee« dured together AS an additional .tie, and pressed his suit with ardor.

But he found a great change in the lady. Yesterday, on Cairnhope PeahL she was- passivf, but soft anA complying. To-day she was polite, but cool, and as slippery as an eel. Theee was no pinning her.

And, at last she said, 'The fact is, I'na thinking of our great preservation, and more inclined to pray than flirt, far once.' ,4V..*. •And so am I,' said the man ef tact bet what 1 offer is a sacred and life-j^ng affection.' •.Oh, of course.' •A few hours ago you did ine the hoeto listen to me. You even hinUd I might speak to your father.' •No, no. »I only asked if you had spoken to him.' "I will not contradict you. IwilltnUt to your own candor. Dear Grace. UM me, have I been so unfortunate as to fend you since then?" "No." "Have I lost your respect?" ••Oh, no." "Have I lorfcited your good opinion?" "Dearmc.no." (A little pettishly.) ••Then how is it thai I love vnu bettor* if possible, ttian yesterday and you setfts n.)t to like ine so well as yesterday." .•"One is riot always in the same hemor." "Then you don't like me to-dayi" "Oh yes, but 1 do. And I shall alwagm like you if you don't tease me, and uiye me too much. It is hardly fair to hump me so I am only a girl, and girls make such mistakes sometimes."

That ts true they marry on too short an acquaintance. But you have know* me more than two years, and, in all that time, have once given you reason 4e think that you had a rival in my adraii*~ tion "1 never watched you to see* But dM that time you have certainly honored me with vour attention, and I do believe ySM love me, more than I deserve. Please de not be angry do not be mortified. These is no occasion I am resolyed net to marry till I am of age that is all: ad# where's the harm of that ."I will wait your pleasure ill I ask )ou, at presentj is to relieve me of my fears, by, engaging yourself to me." •Ah but I have always been warned against long engagements,' 'Long engagements! Why* how cflt are you, may I ask?' •Only nineteen. Give me a little time to think,' •If I wait till you are of age, THA* WILL BE TWO YEARS.' *Jutt about. I was nineteen on the lalls of December. What is the matter?' •Oh, nothing. A sudden twinge. A mm does not get rolled over sharp rocks, kf a mountain torrent, for nothing." "No, indeed." "Nevermind that, If J'tn not to fcQ punished in my heart as well- This resolutio.i, npt to marry for two years, is It your own idea? or has eomcppdy putH into your head since wc stooa on Cairnhope and looked at Bollinghope?" "Please give me credit for it,"" sdi Grace, turning very red it is toe onlj sensible one 1 have had a -long time.*

Mr. Coventry groanecf. aloud, aad turned very pale. Grace said she wanted to go up stairs for her work, and so got away from him.

She turned at the door, aud saw him link into a cha r, with an agony in hii luce that was quite new to him.

She fled to her o*vo room, to think it all over, and she entered ir so rapidly that she caught Jael crying, and rocking herself betore the fire.

The moment she came in Jael got lift and affected to be very busy arranging things but always kept her back turned to Grace,

The young lady sat down &nd leanoi her cheek oh her hand, and reflected very sadly and seriously en the misenr she had left in the drawing-room, anil the tears she had found there.

Accustomed to make others bright and happy by her bare presence, this beautiful and unselfish young creature wae shocked at the misery she was sowing around her, and al| tor something her judgment told her would prove a chinsera. And again she asked herself was she bi ave enough, and selfish enough, defy her father and her godfather, whose mind was written so clearly in that terrible inscription,

She sat tnere, cold1 afiieait, a' loqg time, and at last came to a desperate resolution. I •Give me my writing desk.'

Jael brought it her. •Sit down there where I'can see yoes and don't hide your tears from me want to see you cry. I want every help. I wasn't born to makeeyen body miserable. I am goinj to end it/

She wrote a little, and then tfhe stopped and sighed then she wrote a littlemor^,

and

stopped and sighed. Then she burned the letter, and began agaid and-ae she wrote she sighed, and as she wrote on she moaned, (v OAttauttU ou Xuu-u

tage,)