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[ALL RIGHTS BESEBYED.] MARGERY 0' THE MILL. BY M. E. FRANCIS UtTTHOB OF NORTH. SOUTH, AND OVER THE SEA." FRIEZE AND FUSTIAN," k). CHAPTER XXIII. Then my eyes 'Woued him down the street, and far away. Among the honest shoulders of the crowd, rascal in the motions of his back, ■"M scoundrel In the supple-sliding knee. a few moments the whole house was in a bustle and uproar. Mr. John had Oorne back. The young squire was not dead. all, but alive and hearty, with a broken and a swelled face, and a variety of and yellow bruises adorning different r«ons of his person; but, as old Simmons a 'With a laugh which was choked midway tv 8°b. there was nothing to hurt in all at—it wa8 jost part of the day's work, so ■Peak! Anybody but a fool of a Frenchy °Qld know that an Englishman was not Bo easily. squire came staggering downstairs, and Biost wrung off his eon's hand. The tears down his face. hatv 'Tis you, John, lad! 'Tis you, eh?" Tig me," responded John. "Not much of y pbieet to look at ju«t now, but I reckon rather have me with a swelled face So on thinking me dead. I could very j j** bave murdered that fellow Jacques when tb^eai"d wbat a fright he gave you all. I J^jSbt I'd best come down and show myself, that you could see for yourself there wasn't 11 amiss." mncb amiss, indeed!" cried the squire, th a wavering laugh, as he clapped his son back. "The ladies might think you no tY just now, but I swear that puffed-up of yours is the handsomest sight in the to me. It was very well done of you, ?*■» to come down yourself. I daresay you'd fancied lying quiet in bed a bit longer." .Way, l'm not much of a one for staying in sir. A few bruises don't count, and I'll r* the stiffness off with the harriers to- jOrrow. I'm not ashamed to be beat by the Bull—he's a bruiser, no mistake. Why, Billy the Smasher can't stand up to But I've not done with him yet, for all .,D. j**isht^-right—that's the right spirit!" bis father. "I don't know how I could been such a fool as to give credit to the Jr16 'or a moment. I might have known that a bit too hard-headed to be killed by or two of fisticuffs. But hearing the »o sudden-like took me a-back, I su>p- jj6- And Hawkins there was so positive, ^announced your death as a certain thing. of the heart, no doubt,' says he, and tai Mich a pitiful tale of how you were away with your head dangling that, 3 I believed him." » to be sure, Hawkins brought the bon!Li returned John, and for a moment his good-humoured face clouded over, one, I assure you, my dear Mr. John, so rejoice to find himself mistaken as ♦J^.on this most auspicious occasion," twit- the lawyer. jJr. glanced so imploringly at the young £ ?rlre that the latter, who had been on the v of animadverting on the fact of his jj. ^ng discovered him in the act of drinking 8 Supposed successor's health, was mollified, ^orebore. yeg, they carried me off—they were all of the police, d'ye see? I stayed with Wynne till the alarm blew over, and for Jacques. My word! the fellow's face a study when he saw me! As soon as I ^his tale I posted off to set your nrind Harry had been standing apart, til'ally sobered by the shock and raging in j ?noe- Catching 6ight of him on a sudden, stepiped towards him, and tapped him ^rhumouredly on the shoulder. ^.•Never look so gloomy, man," he cried. je_ail8 me! You are like the skeleton at the a better face on't, for the Lord's OB e> Hal. Don't let my brother be the only who is not glad that I am still alive!" jj spoke merrily, yet with an underlying the • °' real ^ee^nS'- But Harry, stung by in lovial tone, the laugh, the confident air, Uw^ntraet to his own bitter sense of out- struck at the proffered hand and scowling. iorZTenpo11 «niire, in -whom joy at the ^^ming of his firstborn had hitherto left «ali5?OIn for other considerations, was re- to to a remembrance of Harry's affronts t^f^Oiself and callousness under what had ^V^ten«d to be so serious a family calamity. of my house!" he cried. "You, who t^only rejoiced at the news of your brother's aw* but insulted your father in his hour of Out of my house, I say! Begone for Nay, John, have done!"—as John would iijjj Utterfered. 'Tie useless to speak for useless, I say! Why, the fellow ed me-threatened me to my face to #n7 e ducks and drakes of the old place a» 1 wa« I'm heir in tail,' says he. £ T^ii ^at now' John- eh? You th« ,]t onr business to cut off lad e .er trnst everything to you, You think kindly of your old father, 8h?f! yon are n°t with him. You even made tt to bundle out of bed with your broken but the bea, rather than leave me anxious; 'bis heartless scoundrel—scoundrel, I say, if^v^1 1)6 my son—what did he care even Ba shock killed me? 'My brother's dead,' I'jj e> 'and Fm heir to Leith!' You and th« the entail to-mororw, and settle Place absolutely on you." lo^Harry stood glowering back at his father, even by his would-bei advocate, John, *Bdi^i°m-1116 laet recital had aroused a fierce of Ration, the great bell, hung in the turret a rnX, win?- began to peal merrily, and w light shone from without on the, as .^5rPn«buttered windows. this?" cried the squire, in an 8imCl? tone. "What's the bell ringing for, le „^one ? Tbe work-folk will think the house a-nre." no matter if they do," cried Simmons, *as beside himself with excitement. 3$,. >j?r they should do that than go on think- fcin«^ee*ier John's dead. They'll all come run- tlle« tip here, sir, and then we can tell them "ï e k gQod news and show 'em Mester John. hearty- And Tom and Robert is •r^Snting a bonfire on the lawn." Wu^kt!" cried his master jovially. "Up W« .blinds, Simmons! Everyone in the ft. me' George, I never want to ,jtne blinds down again!" >)Jle «mire and John rushed to the window, Mr- Hawkins was already officiously lDgl nP the blind. In another moment the en-fc was thrown open, and the glare tow? without shone upon the walls. The the crackling wood was soon lost in ■^n8r cheers and joyful shouts. John's come home! Three cheers the young squire!" the midst of the merrymaking Harry away and disappeared in the darkness -T*1 Out. ^8 one ema11 dr°P of s-weetnew alleviated of 8ra'^—the' remembrance of Lawyer Wai_, lne'8 twenty-pound note safe in his t^~ °at pocket. He would never dare to to'Jl1*8 for it8 recOTerT- To do 80 would to betray his- own eagerness to pay court usurper. clapi>ed his hand on his pocket as along. "One brand saved from the lne-" said he, "and I may yet be able to the miller's money-bags. 'Twas good I jj.' )n<^eed, that made me refuse to tell her to break with her. If only I can her from seeing old Lupton till we are t«sl] an<i wife! fortunate that the old w refused to break the tidings to her. I capital of this disappointment of 3om?.n. be soft-hearted fools, a11 of I'll tell her I had resolved to be true eDi of my brilliant prospects, and that V 1 am a castaway she must prove herself 'Gad, that's a notion! Would she roe to-mororw, I wonder? She vows she b:teø me. but that, I'll wager, was pique. I 5th been acting the part of lover without W heart of late. Ill play up to-night— hearth-blighted hopes-impending ,dnees-! (That's a good cue!) Would she H from such a direful fate? She must *lw, mine! Damnation! To think I lug » have come to such a pass! This morn- ►aSp. have sworn 'twas in my power to ^>e o. neande, and now I am plotting for 4 greasy purse of the miller's daughter!" v,u's be, approached the Mill house, the window ),ea. suddenly thrown open, and two figures Jjar* Dt,t. outlined by the glow within. (SttKL y came to a standstill as he recognised and Margery. "What a glorious •tap. be heard the girl say. "See how the *»♦(Pr1 down at ns' Stephen. Is it not a ha world? I would that everyone were ^(J^py a« we are. But think of the poor ,0* his 8ore heart: y«t had it not been Joy e loss we should never have found our *0^°- indeed," returned Stephen. "I sup- •bit_ would have married that villain in Hfc everything if he had not griven you Of his own free will?" )rll Confound it! I am too late!" groaned J^t v° himself- "That old marplot Lupton aTe Pe^bed. Our joy, quotha, and «an « little bussy looked at him! They b«ll Carce have heard the bellowing of the i>Ut' certainly pay no heed to it. I'll if j j. 8P°ke in your wheel, though, madam, die for it." J^drawing into the shadow of the hedge; ^Wdl away cautiously, proceeding more *11] when he had left the precinots of the jj. °^hand. straight for Luke's lodgings, and, summarily, found that worthy in tKIng an<i conning a week-old newspaper vjechimney corner. Harry?" cried Lake, starting to his Ton fool! Pre con» for one word j vjechimney corner. Harry?" cried Lake, starting to his Ton fool! Pre con» for one word j with you, and then I leave this place for good. I vow 'tis too hot to hold me now." "What! Isn't it true, then, that you are the heir to Leith Hall?" "Devil a bit of it! 'Twas a trick of Old Nick's, I do believe. My brother's alive and kicking, and my father has made up his mind to break the entail and cut me out altogether. As for Margery-" "Eh, dear! Yes, we know about that," returned Luke, with a grin. "Ye should ha' looked before ye leaped, Mester Harry. She was on with the new love as soon as your back was turned." "Well, you great oaf, why didn't you pre- vent that?" cried Harry, impatiently. "Don't you know it is you who ought to be in my shoes, not Stephen Frith?" "Me!" exclaimed the miller, amazed. "Yes—you. Wasn't it to be either you or me? If not me, then you? She said so her- self.T "True. So she did!" cried the other, clap- ping his hand to his forehead. 'One or t'other,' says she; I mind it well." "Well, then, keep her to her word," returned Harry. "Tis her boast that her word is as good as her bond. All you've got to do is to claim her." "But there'll be Stephen Frith to reckon with," said Luke, doubtfully. "Pooh!" returned the other. "He's easily settled. The girl can't deny her promise. He'd have to stand .back." "Why, then, I will claim her," cried Luke. (< -P? •' Harry, with a malevolent smile. And when she s your wife, don't forget to put in practice what you preached to me. Break her in." "Ah! I'll do that," agreed Luke, and his coarse face assumed an expression as sinister as Harry s own. Harry nodded and turned away. And here we may take leave of him. The neighbourhood had become too hot to hold him, as he had said, and he betook himself first to Manchester and then to London. There, having spent the last of Mr. Hawkins's twenty-pound note, he enlisted, under an assumed name, in a cavalry regiment, and, after dazzling the eyes and filching the savings of many misguided servant girls, was sent on active service, where a French bullet ultimately put a period to his career. CHAPTER XXIV. 0, but man, proud man. Drest In a little brief authority Most ignorant of what he's most assured, His gtaMy essence—like an angry ape Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep. "By your leave," said Luke, thrusting in his head at the door of the parlour just as Stephen had seated himself on the settle next to Margery and was preparing to spend a happy hour in her company. "What do you want?" cried Margery, moving a little further away from her lover. "Why, I want a word or two with you, if 'tie convenient, and I want a word or two with him-you," pointing to. Stephen. "It is not at all convenient," responded his mistress tartly. "What business have you to come to the house at all at this hour of the morning? Just when you should be in the For a moment or two they swayed backwards and forwards." I very midst of your work! You don't know your place, sir." "Don't I?'" said Luke; and he very deliberately walked into the room and closed the door behind him. "I reckon I do, though; better nor you know yowrs, missus, haply, and a. deal better nor he knows his." Again he jerked his thumb towards the young farmer. "What is the meaning of this?" asked the latter sternly. "How dare you speak to your mistress in such a tone? You forget yourself, Luke." "Nay, I don't forget myself," retorted the miller, wagging his head portentously. "I've a very good memory, Mester Frith-a better memory nor missus has, seemin'ly. I've come to remind her o' summat." He crossed the room till he stood close to Margery, and then, drawing a coin from his pocket, tossed it in the air. "D'ye mind anything o' that mak?" he asked, leering at her. Margery uttered a. cry, and shrank close to Stephen. "How dare you, sir?" cried Stephen warmly; "how dare you insult your mistress by reminding her of the plot which you and Mr. Westacre dared to make against her! I regret that I did not advise her to dismiss you at once. I did wrong, very wrong, in allowing her to keep you in her service after such an affront." Luke laughed derisively. "Somebody's goin' to get the bag," he remarked, jocularly, "but 'tis not me. You're altogether wrong, Mester Frith. I'm talking o' summat quite different —summat as missus there calls to mind now as well as me." Picking up the coin, he spun it in the air again. Talis Luke. he cried. "D'ye mind that. Missus Margery? 'If not the one the t'other,' says you. 'Take your chance,' says yon. 'It shall be you or him,' you says. If one draws back, I take the other.' Margery turned deadly pale, and, catching hold of Stephen's hand, clung to it with both hers. "Oh, Stephen," she cried. "Oh, Stephen, Stephen!" "She dursn't deny it," cried Luke, trium- phantly. I "Oh, 'tis true, 'tis true," moaned the girl. "I can't deny it, Stephen; I can't!" (< "Well," resumed the miller jubilantly, "there it is, a plain case. Mester Harry have drawn back, so here I come. Tis my turn now. 'Tis Moster Frith aa shall be sent packin'. I forbid the banns between Margery Burchell and Stephen Frith. For why? Be- cause Margery Burahell is promised to me, and I'm goin' to take her to wife." "Oh, save me!" cried Margery, wildly throw- ing herself into Stephen's arms. "Save me, Stephenf" He was quite as white as she, but calm and determined. Disengaging himself gently, he rose and stepped up to Luke. "I can make nothing of this tale of yours," he said, "and, in any case, I would not take your word for it. I cannot for a moment believe that you have any real claim upon Miss Burchell, and I will not have her frightened and upset. Leave the room at once. I must talk the matter quietly over with her, and that cannot be done while you are here. Begone, I eay' "Who'a to make me go?" thundered Luke. "By the Lord, I'm master here. I'll have my rights, I will. I'm as good a man as you, Stephen Frith. If one or other of us must go, it shall be you." Almost before Margery knew what had hap- pened, the two men were wrestling with each other, for Luke gripped Stephen so suddenly that he was forced to defend himself. For a moment or two they swayed backwards and forwards, Luke's face flushed and his eyes glaring. Stephen still pale and setting his teeth hard. They were well matched, and as they wrestled, moving the body only and keeping the feet firmly planted, made but little noise over the contest. Margery was watching with wide-open eyes, too much terrified even to scream, when the door was suddenly opened, and Dr. May came in. "My word!" he cried, starting back in amazement. "Is this a game—a trial of strength? Are they in earnest, child?" "Oh, indeed, they are, sir," cried Margery, running towards him. "For Heaven's sake, stop them!" Hastening up to the combatants, the doctor caught Luke over the knuckles sharply with his riding cane, and with a snarl he relaxed his hold. Stephen also gave way, and the two men started apart. "Upon my word!" ejaculated Doctor May, "these are pretty doings for peaceable folk in the early morning! What's wrong here, I say? Luke Rigby, what villainy have you afoot?" Luke, who had been ruefully contemplating his knuckles, one or two of which had been out open by the doctor's carie, now looked up suddenly. "I were fightin' for my rights," he said; "I mean to have my rights. That there lass pro- mised to wed me if she did not wed Harry Westacre, didn't ye, wench? Speak up!" "I was mad," faltered Margery. "Mad or sane, ye meant what ye said," insisted the miller threateningly. "I—I——" she faltered and burst into tears. "Now, look here,-Luke Rigby, we shall never hear the rights on't as long as you are here, I see," said Dr. May. "Take yourself off, my friend. Time enough to hear your tale after Miss Burchell has told hers. She won't run away, I promise you; you can keep a watch on the house if you like from the mill chamber. But be off with you now. We shall be ready enough to inquire into your side of the question later on." "Well, it can do me no harm to waitas how 'tis," returned Luke, after heaitating for a moment. He had been impressed, in spite of himself, by the doctor's resolute air. "The business 'ull not spoil for keeping," he added. "Let the wench try all roads, ahe can't get out of it." I He slouched to the door, where he paused I to say threateningly: "This arternoon I mun have a straight answer. I'll not be put off wi' no more shilly- shally." Nobody vouchsafed a response, and he closed the door with a bang. "Now, Margery," said Stephen, turning to the girl, and speaking quietly, though with unconscious sternness, "let's hear the mean- ing of this story?" "I cannot believe for a moment," interposed the doctor excitedly, "that you gave a promise of marriage to your own servant." Margery dried her eyes, and looked from one to the other bravely. "I will tell you the truth," she said; "you must think what you please of me. You remember the day I asked you what you thought of Harry Westa-cre, Stephen?" "I remember it well," said he, his pale face flushing a little. "You told me that strange tale about Mr. Harry and Luke agreeing to toss up who should court me. I-my heart was sore, Stephen, because you spoke so coldly, and never seemed to care about my being made so little of." "How could you think that?" be put in quickly. Twas your own fault," she retorted, with spirit. "You might have seen my heart was bursting, and you never said a kind word. I ran out of the house, and put the horse in the gig, and drove away as hard as I could." "I remember that, my dear," said Dr. May. "You were like a little fury that day." "When I went home," continued Margery, "I thought and thought, and I fancied you had insulted me, and then fPfcndma began telling me I was the talk of the place, and the only way to stop the gossip would be to get wed. So, thinks I to myself, 'I'll take the first man that comes; I'll take any man since no true man likes me.' And then I bethought me of Mr. Harry and Luke tossing up for me, and the notion came to me to serve them the same road. I reckoned 'twould vex Mr. Harry to be made even with Luke, and just at that moment in he came, smirking and smiling, and making so sure of me. I didn't wait to think about it-I just sent for Luke-and did it." "Oh," returned the doctor, shaking his finger at her, "what a saucy wench! What a naughty, wilful hussy! I mind saying to myself that very day when I saw you, 'If ever there was one who has bitten off her nose to spite her face, it's Margery Burchell.' But did you really and seriously, my dear, mean to marry Luke Rigby if luck was in his favour?" ( I meant it at the time," faltered Margery. "I—I wasn't in my right mind. Oh, Stephen! forgive me!" she cried, with a burst of sobs. "'Tisn't seemly for me to say such things, but I must tell all the truth. I loved you then. and I thought you didn't care for me and 80- "But when all was made clear between us, how came you never to tell me?" said he. His face had not relaxed its severity, his arm was rigid in her grasp. "I was so happy," gasped she, I give you my word, Stephen, I clean forgot all about it till Luke came in this morning. You mayn't believe me, but it's the truth." She looked earnestly into his face, but, finding no sign of softening there, withdrew her hands from his arm, and hurried out of the room, sobbing all the way. Doctor May, who had been fidgetting for the last moment or two, rubbing his nose, blink- ing his eyes, clasping and unclasping his hands, now burst forth: "Well, of all the harsh, stony-hearted Pon my life, I'd make a better lover myself Poor little sinner! Tis my belief you were most in fanlt. Stephen. Had it not been for her wounded love, she would never have com- mitted this folly. Folly it was, nothing worse. Yet you must needs stand over her like a judge ready to put on the black cap. "Doctor!" cried Stephen, with a groan, "you don't understand. This folly will have dreadful consequences. How can I look any- thing but grave when I must lose her?" "Fiddlesticks!" cried the doctor. "You don't mean that you would give a serious thought to that mad promise of hers?" "It was a promise, nevertheless," returned Stephen. "She meant what she said. You know, to me a promise is absolutely binding." "Moonshine and midsummer madness!" cried Doctor May. "Do you mean to say that if a man vows he'll eat his head if such and such a. thing happens—an expression common enough in these times—he's bound to do it? Poor little Margery's vow to marry her servant is just as rash and just as impossible to carry out. Pray, how long will you go on tilting at windmills, my dear Don Quixote or was it Sancho Panza? I read the tale once, but 'pon my life I forget it now. Save on this one point, Stephen, you are as sen- sible a. fellow as ever I met with; but where this over-nice notion of honour comes in faith, you are stark, staring mad! The girl's scarcely more than a child, for one thing. Would her father have dreamt of allowing the match, let her promise herself fifty times over? You know very well he wouldn't Well, it is your duty, as her father's friend— even if you stood in no nearer relation to herself-to prevent it by every means in vour power. v A momentary expression of relief crossed Stephen's face, and he looked earnestly at the doctor; then his countenance fell again. He was beginning to speak, when his friend cut him short: "Now, look here, my good fellow. Would it satisfy your insane scruples if Luke Rigby were formally to renounce all claim upon Margery's hand?" "Why, of course, it would satisfy me," returned the other; "but "Then leave the matter in my hands," went on his friend. "Put this silly affair com- pletely-out of your head. ru (et it «tra«ht for you. Call down your little sweetheart, and make it up with her, man, this very minute. Poor little loving laas! I doubt she's crying her eyes out in her room! Call her down and tell her the truth, that you are as much in fault as she, but that the whole thing is a storm in a tea-cup. Be tender to her, mind," cried the doctor threateningly. Stephen, who was already half-way to the door, turned round with a smile, which re-assured him. "But- what about Luke?" he queried, pausing with his hand on the latch. .< 'keave Luke to me," said Doctor May. "I've a notion in my noddle. I think I know how to settle Master Luke." Rigby was standing just inside the mill door as the doctor passed, and greeted him with a sneer. "Well," he said derisively, "I hope ye've talked enough. What has it coom to, eh?" "We have talked to some purpose, my friend," said Doctor May, cheerfully. "The young folks have very wisely decided to leave the affair in my hands." Here he paused, drawing his big turnip-shaped watch from his fob, and consulting it gravely. "I have one or two important calls to make, and then I must go home and dine; but about five this afternoon I shall be passing this way again, Luke, and I will look in and give you your answer." "You'll give me my answer!" cried Luke angrily. "That's pretty cool. I'm to be patient till then, I suppose?" "You^ are to wait till then," returned Dr. May; "patiently if you are wise, impatiently if you are fooltSh. But you'll have to wait." (To be concluded.)

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