took for satisfaction. A wicked thought, harbored in the mind, betrayed itself in that sly twinkle. Soon after the pair besought God's blessing on their humble roof, and a cleansed heart and purified conscience for the young tramper to whom they had kindly given shelter.

The night is waxing chill. It is time to part; and yet the words which the honest youth knows not how to express betray themselves in gestures that find voice to murmur, "Linger a moment;" yet at last they come :"Mary, I am about to leave you for a tour to the Continent. Will you think of me when I am gone?"

The blue eyes swim with tears and look a mute and tender reproach, as if they said, "Can you ask if we are forgetful?"

The lover continues: "Ever since we were children, Mary, and played together, there never has been a day in which your image has been absent from my heart. I was your little knight of old. Mine is not the eloquence of words, but, Mary, I love you. Here or across the seas makes no difference. You have all my heart, such as it is." The young Squire had premeditated and rehearsed, on his way, a speech full of rhetoric, but Cupid slyly passed some dewy blossom across the memory's tablet and left a blank for the heart to fill up.

Mary steals one look, only one; crimsons; tries to speak; her words fail; she trembles on his arm. He needs no other answer. That look disclosed all; he is beloved. Still waits, still shines the evening star. These two human dewdrops can never separate any more, and, when they exhale from the flower cup of this dear mother earth, their fragrant essences will rise together.

Though Hugh Brompton the younger may never fill a place in the world's annals, he possesses the large, practical sense that fits a man to be thrifty and successful in his own affairs, a wise counsellor in trouble and a true friend in

need. Mary Bloomfield understands him better and loves him more sweetly than do many wives their husbands after years of married life. From the time when Mary used to feed the young ducks and chickens in the poultry yard, herself not taller by more than a head than the old turkeygobbler, by some innate love she has been attracted to all the mysteries of housewifery, just as the ducklings have sought their element in the neighboring pond. The two young people possess the same affection for rural life and its kindly employments. Their romance is toned down in its expression; yet, nevertheless, though it may glow less vividly in the hues of fancy and build castles less gorgeous in the realms of imagination, they will grow, by God's blessing, as love deepens and intensifies the character, to clear perception of realities that lie beneath the surface of the work-day world. Cast for parts in life's great spectacle different from those that fall to the lot of Charles and Marian, yet when the last, eventful act shall close the drama and the day, the Master of the spectacle will say, "Well done, good and faithful." Pausing above the hilltops, pale Vesper waits to chronicle upon her silver disk their pure betrothal; and now they part, and now Orion rules the

scene.

Scarcely had the echoes of the pattering horse-hoofs of this gay young rider died away, and the fair head of that gentle, loving Mary sank into its pillow, hovered over by blissful dreams, when, emerging from the shadows, a group of five, whose stealthy movement betrays guilt and fear, pause before the great gate. The lights in the gamekeeper's lodge are now extinguished, but a gipsy lad, on tip toe, finds his way into the open air and unbars the postern. By midnight the burglars again pass into the shadows and disappear. Well does the gipsy lad, arrested as a poacher five years after, know who wore Peter Styles' shoes.

We return now to the scene with which the preceding

chapter opened, briefly summing up events at home since dark John Chivers crossed the seas with the stolen child. Village gossip, rural incidents, courtships and marriages, and episodes in the history of glad or aching hearts, shall not detain us long.

Hugh Brompton, the younger, since he parted with Mary Bloomfield, on that winter evening, is bronzed with foreign travel. He has stood upon the pyramids, beheld the cataracts of the Nile, crossed the desert, and visited the Holy cities, moving everywhere with the modern Englishman's keen, practical eye. But, while Cupid with airy circles showers sunlight, coy Hymen will not yet draw near to light the marriage flame. His Mary, with many a blush, has whispered that their marriage must be deferred till father and Charlie are reconciled. The duties of the household now devolve upon the daughter, for the tender mother is drooping, while the shadow deepens in the old Squire's eyes, and a darker shadow still throws a reflection of its coming gloom upon the hearthstone, the shadow of death in the house. Hidden in the heart this gentle one has a secret which none divine. Her persuasions drew Marian Deschamps from the charge of her little foundling to pay that last visit to Wingate. Perchance, had it not been for this innocent error, Charlie might ere this have won his bride. A twelvemonth from the coming Christmas, and seven years will have passed since then. Nearly of the same age with Marian, her three-and-twenty summers ripen to glorious, womanly bloom, and, like some prophet bird, with shining plumage and unearthly tongue, Hope sings in her bosom that all will yet be well.

The gipsy mother, successful in her errand, on arriving at the Priory made known to the young Squire the misfortune with which her son was overtaken. With sound, sterling good sense, calling for his horse at once, Mr. Brompton, before the hour appointed, held an interview with the

poacher. Aware of the labyrinths in a rogue's mind, while yet the terrors of imprisonment were impending, he extracted from the lad a full confession of the particulars of the robbery at Wingate. Three of the gang were professional burglars from London, and the fourth the valet of Dr. Bushwig, known to his associates by the alias of Jack Tofton. Of the stolen plate a considerable portion was sold to Hezekiah Pinch, the usurer at Sloppery. The declaration exonerated Peter Styles from all the suspicions of guilt under which the good man had left the land, the depraved youth admitting that he had gone that night to the lodge for the purpose of opening the postern after the gatekeeper was asleep, and that he had stolen the shoes and worn them with wool stuffed around the feet.

The confession was complete. The young Squire insisted that it should be repeated before witnesses, after which he paid the fine, and the poacher was set at large, two days being given to him before the declaration should be made public, in order to effect his escape.

Never does a lover find his mistress more beautiful than when engaged in the sweet pursuit that was Mother Eve's before the fall,-gathering the garden fruits or ministering to the wants of the blooming family of flowers. On the ensuing morning, armed with the confession of the gipsy, young Brompton found his way to Wingate Hall, discovering his charmer superintending the removal of delicate plants to their Winter quarters. The old Squire sat, enjoying the October sun and gazing on the merry group, making the garden ring with laughter, and, when the sonin-law elect, now installed as a prime favorite, approached to request a favor, the smiling, good-humored answer was at once in the affirmative.

"I am on my way," observed young Hugh, while bloom-' ing Mary stood wondering at his side, "I am on my way to Richmanstown, where I hope ere four hours have passed

to see Peter Styles' wife and tell her that we have now ample proofs that her good man was innocent. My request is that you will accompany me."

Squire Bloomfield forgot his pipe, which dropped into a score of fragments, listened till the narration was at an end, and then ordered the carriage. An angel had troubled the waters within his breast. Furiously had he stormed to discover that his own son had given bail for the appearance of the suspected man at the Assizes, and more furiously still at the intimation that by this son's advice the gatekeeper had fled the country till evidences in his favor should be brought to light. Against poor Marian, too, his anger had been fierce on learning that, as if to put him to the blush before the county, her generous heart had opened with a shelter for the afflicted woman and child. Now Conscience rose from sleep, and, sudden with remorse as with anger, he announced a determination to bear the tidings and make amends before he slept.

It is time for thee to rouse, old man,-time for thee to set thine house in order, ere the lights are darkened at the windows. Thou art going on a long journey ere many days. Thou shalt be escorted by him who rides upon the pale horse. Anger and rash judgment are dangerous companions on that shadowed road.

In some families the transition to the coming life is marked by perceptible changes, and a long twilight precedes the darkness; in others, the sun drops almost instantaneously below the horizon; at once the day's bright glory is for ever fled. Thus had the father of Squire Bloomfield ceased to live. One day beheld him at the dinner table, and the next upon a bier. The strong man, as he contemplated the rosy complexion and smiled upon the rounded limbs, would not allow himself to believe for a moment that any symptoms of apoplexy were indicated. Dr. Bumblefuz had been consulted nevertheless. The professional